The Return
by Runespoor
Summary: In the middle of a war the usual thing is that people die. It's more unusual when they return alive after having been thought dead for three months. Hinata, after being a prisoner in Sound, does. implied NejiHina, TemaShika
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Return  
**Author:** Runespoor  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary:** In the middle of a war the usual thing is that people die. It's more unusual when they return alive after having been thought dead for three months. Hinata, after being a prisoner in Sound, does.  
**Notes:** TemaShika in later parts, implied NejiHina. Politics, original Ino-Shika-Chou, life during a war, some Ibiki. Very little angst. Takes place in the same universe as **Oversights and Celebrations** (Celebrationverse), can be read on its own.

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When Nara Shikaku started on his night patrol with Yamanaka Inoichi, he did not know what he was expecting.

He was hoping for his other teammate to be able to join them again as soon as possible, for his wife to be waiting for him at the end of the night without her forehead protector on, for his son to bring safely back their allies of Suna. He feared that he would get none of these things. He planned on making it through the night anyway.

He tried not to think of all the younger shinobi who were farther away from home, and who fought – implying _stayed_, and often _died_ – on the front. Tsunade's decisions made sense, and it had been her choice to put a few of the senior jounins, those who had families and often clan responsibilities, closer to the village. They were the last barrier, the last shield, and that meant they had to bide their time and hope they'd never need to fight at all.

Shikaku kept his doubts to himself – that as a user of the shadows, he might be more useful as a spy – doubts he knew Inoichi shared. Then again, Inoichi had lost the twins when they were going through the fighting areas, so the village's best interests were likely not the most prominent thing on his mind when he dreamt of going there. It would have been alright with Shikaku if he hadn't believed that Inoichi's own life wasn't something that his teammate put much attention in either at the moment.

Beside, as he'd told Inoichi, he didn't fancy having to explain to his daughter what had happened. Thinking about Ino had made Inoichi pause. She'd always been reckless when something threatened the people she loved, and her father was pretty much the last blood family she had left.

Inoichi's sons had been killed a mere two months after the beginning of the war, and now, a year later, Shikaku no longer feared for his teammate's equilibrium. Unless the same thing happened to Ino, but Ino's skills easily outclassed those of her half-brothers, four years younger or not – and she had her teammates.

Shikaku privately thought that, in spite of everything, the original Ino-Shika-Chou trio fared rather better than a lot of the others – as parents and as clans, and maybe even as ninjas as well.

Take the Hyuuga. A 'disgrace' of an heir who had died in a massacre by the Sound months ago, an eleven-year-old spare who'd committed suicide days after her first mission, a head of clan who had stormed out of the village when news about his eldest – and last – daughter had reached him and had gone down in a dramatic last stand, a prodigy who was stuck on the front and was proceeding on methodically cutting back on his chances of survival, if the Aburame's reports were even half accurate, a clan council that blindingly refused to consider making him the new head of clan, and an entire clan torn and thrown in bloody disarray. And Konoha, paying the price for the folly of its most powerful clan.

At least the Ino-Shika-Chou occasionally got to see their children, when their duties took them back to the village, and they received messages and regular updates from the Hokage. Shikaku chose to trust the Hokage's updates on the grounds that she'd know better than to lull her shinobi into a false sense of security when they were supposed to watch over the village boundaries. He hoped that he'd never need to trust the Hokage's updates simply because she was the Hokage.

In a ninja like in anyone else, security tends to breed complacency. The village of Konoha was one of the safest places to be as the war endured.

Nara Shikaku hadn't been chosen to guard the village's area for nothing.

He felt another ninja's presence a long way before he could even hope to see them, much less pin them down with his shadows, and a quick glance at Inoichi told him his teammate had noticed as well.

There was something off with the other presence, they quickly realized as they dashed through the trees to meet the enemy. No genjutsu surrounded him, or her, not only as though the ninja was making no effort to go unnoticed, but also as though that person was genuinely alone, and neither bait nor a trap.

Chances were that if the shinobi had managed to penetrate so far into the more protected areas around Konoha, they were of a reasonably high level, and even if they were unable to pull genjutsu off, they should be aware of the two jounins sprinting forward, and yet far from making a detour, the shinobi came straight at them.

Either it was one of the suicidal attacks Orochimaru's followers _did_ seem to be inordinately fond of – there hadn't been one over the past month; this one would bring the total to a grand thirty-one such attacks – either it was a Konoha-nin rushing back from a war zone to let the Hokage know something was wrong, and beyond the accepted level of wrongness, for the messenger to be alone. A basic strategy was to never, ever send a messenger on their own, as they were all too easily picked and killed that way.

In any case it might be bad, and Shikaku started to devise quick tricks to shove Inoichi out of the way if the other was one of Orochimaru's crazy Sound-nin.

The two men stopped before running across the enemy, as close range did nothing for their skills, and prepared themselves to cast their jutsus.

Shikaku did not expect the other nin to come to a stop on a branch a few meters away, using arms as counterweight, and then to almost stumble on the branch, as if too drained to still stand. It took him a precious two seconds to recognize that the odd consistence and the sticky shadows on the nin's clothes were that of a blood-soaked jacket that clung to a woman's chest. There was a level of drenching in blood that even experienced jounins still needed a few instants to get used to.

Not woman, girl, Shikaku realized as he identified the long dark hair, the smooth unmarked forehead, and the dull white eyes.

Shikaku stared at the face of Hyuuga Hinata, of whom nothing had been heard since the Grass lord she was supposed to be protecting (spying) had been betrayed and attacked by the Sound. The place had burnt to the ground and Konoha had lost its one potential ally in Grass, along with the three dozens of ninjas that had been sent to secure and watch over the small lord's loyalty. The event had taken place thirteen weeks ago.

He couldn't think of voicing his astonishment, though, as he watched the expression on the girl's face.

She was a ninja – a Hyuuga – she was _the_ Hyuuga by now – she was expected to know how to dissimulate and lie above anyone else in the village except maybe the Hokage and the ANBU, and Shikaku had known that Hyuuga Hiashi had been immensely disappointed in his older daughter, but nothing could have prepared him for the stark nakedness of her expression.

She was back in Konoha after thirteen weeks during which everyone had figured that of course she was dead, and she looked as healthy as anyone caked in drying blood possibly could.

Shikaku didn't understand the succession of feelings that flashed across her face. First relief, then blankness and a gut-wrenching understanding, then a sort of accepting weariness, the one Shikaku had only ever seen on the faces of a handful of missing-nin when they were caught and had to fight for their lives again, and then finally, her jaw and eyes setting in sheer blinding defiant stubbornness as – Shikaku didn't understand – her fingers interlaced to form the seal used to dispel genjutsu.

Her jaw clenched. Even before she finished saying the word that would break the illusion, her body slowly fell on the branch like a puppet folded by its master, eyes closed.

Inoichi cursed.

That was when Shikaku registered what had just happened, and the both of them ran towards the unconscious girl.

Crouching next to her, the two men exchanged a glance, pausing for a moment. From up close, she looked worn out, but there were no other outward marks.

"What do you think happened to her?" Shikaku asked mildly, purely out of the need to know he hadn't imagined any of it.

"I don't know," Inoichi replied in the same tone, and didn't finish his sentence because there was no use in saying out loud that 'but anyway it can't have been good'.

Shikaku pulled her on his back, wondering what had happened to her. It wasn't everyday that the village was basically given one of its dead back and there was no telling what the reappearance of the rightful Hyuuga heir would do to the clan, or to her teammates. A jolt went through him, because this girl was one of her son's comrades, one of the Rookie Nine; and that, so far, she'd been the only one whom they'd known was dead, and that, to learn she was alive…

It would give them hope back, Shikaku thought. Because it had been impossible for her to still be alive, but Shikaku remembered that it had also been impossible for the Rock Lee boy to be a ninja again, as though this particular group had an affinity with that which was impossible. As impossible as the Kyuubi vessel ever managing to drag the Uchiha boy back to Konoha.

For the first time since Uzumaki Naruto and Haruno Sakura had gone missing and Orochimaru had attacked Konoha in retaliation for the part they'd played when Uchiha Sasuke had left Sound – and despite the message the two had sent to the Hokage, in which they explained in a tone both cheerful and grim that they had to assist Sasuke in his taking-down of Akatsuki and had to leave Orochimaru and his lackeys to the village, but would be back as soon as they were finished with Psychotic Inc. – Shikaku thought that maybe the Hokage was right to trust them.

They couldn't bring her back to Konoha and to its hospital right away; they had to guard this area until dawn, and Hinata's state wasn't worrying enough that they'd take the risk to abandon their mission. It would have been much easier if Chouza had been back with them already – two of them could have stayed and watched over the girl while the last one went back to the village with the news.

They stopped when they were back at the same distance from the village's walls as they'd been before they'd spotted her presence, and settled the Hyuuga girl as well as they could.

Inoichi tried shaking her awake while Shikaku pulled a survival blanket from his pack, but her head rolled on the side; the only reaction he got was a soft sigh as her mouth opened.

"Shit, I wonder what happened to her," Inoichi muttered.

Shikaku nodded; that they had no idea was worrisome enough that it could be repeated. "She's not wearing a hitai-ate," he noted.

Both of them knew that it didn't mean anything except that she'd gone through pretty difficult moments, and as they already knew how Konoha had first lost trace of her, they had no trouble believing that.

"You think she might be on his side?" Inoichi asked in a detached tone that said he didn't like thinking about it, but she'd been part of the Grass slaughter and was still alive, with no sign of allegiance to Konoha and no other mark than exhaustion and a blood-covered jacket.

Shikaku shrugged. "What's in there for her?"

Inoichi raised his eyebrows. "What do you know of the Hyuuga clan politics?"

Point. Shikaku nodded to concede the victory to Inoichi, who gently laid the girl on the branch and slipped his own pack under her head, stifling a sigh. Then he extended his hand to Shikaku, who wordlessly gave him the blanket.

"I don't think she's a traitor," Inoichi went on, tightly tucking the cover around her with as much care as if she'd been a five-year-old Ino. "Though the Hyuuga are fucked up as all hell." Shikaku could only agree. "God I don't envy her."

Again, Shikaku could only agree. There was only one way to be sure of people's loyalties when there was a war and it featured Morino Ibiki in a starring role.

Inoichi's hands stilled as they were tucking the cover at the level of the girl's hips. Shikaku sent him a quizzical look.

Inoichi pulled the blanket away and felt the girl's jacket. There was a pocket there, Shikaku saw, as Inoichi took something out of the pocket; he moved closer to have a better look at the object Inoichi was frowning at.

It was a pair of spectacles, round, with a thin silver frame. They were specked with blood.

The two jounins spent a moment staring at the glasses.

"Hm," Shikaku finally went, falling back on a habit which he'd had since he was a genin and which had never failed to annoy Yoshino. "Does this – look like what I think it does?"

"I don't know," Inoichi said in a strangely bland voice. There was a pause during which the absence of their third teammate was sorely felt, then he made the necessary remark. "It really doesn't mean anything, you know."

"There's more than one person wearing round spectacles with a thin silver frame," Shikaku stated.

"Exactly."

Another moment went by. A surreal type of silence settled.

"Suddenly the chances of her being on Orochimaru's side look seriously _depleted_." Inoichi sounded fascinated.

"If it's not genjutsu."

"It's not genjutsu," Inoichi confirmed.

A thin smile stretched Shikaku's lips. "If it's not an elaborate scheme of his," he countered.

"I'd like to say that it's too obvious but you'd retort that it's just underhanded enough."

Inoichi looked like his face refused to form its usual scowl at this point of the conversation. Shikaku understood the feeling perfectly, as he was sure his eyes really weren't usually that wide either.

They didn't say any more about it until they had to go back to the village.

"I bring her to the hospital," Inoichi said, putting the glasses back in Hinata's pocket. "You go find the Hokage."

* * *

Tsunade stared at the girl. Hinata was still out cold; she'd been put on a bed, and she was still wearing her own clothes – immediate proof that the shinobi authorities of the hospital expected Hokage-sama to have something to say about the girl being there.

Shikaku had just come back with the Hokage, having updated her on the situation in as few words as he could. He sneaked a glance at Inoichi, who had jerked standing when Tsunade had slid the door open, and who now had his hands behind his back. He was nervous, Shikaku translated. About what awaited the little Hyuuga girl, if Shikaku was any judge of his teammate's slightly protective stance. _Damn_ him and his soft heart.

For his sake, Shikaku really hoped that Hinata was alright. Inoichi had this unfortunate tendency for a ninja to equate all innocent-looking, nice-seeming young kunoichis to his daughter. And apparently, he'd already adopted the inert form of Hinata.

"So you said she tried to break a genjutsu as soon as she saw you, and she fainted," Tsunade recalled. "Hm. Sounds like chakra exhaustion, I'll run a check up later."

The medical reason made sense, but of course it didn't explain why the girl would have believed them to be an illusion. Shikaku didn't like any of the conjectures he could draw, particularly as the image of the blood-streaked spectacles was still sharp in his mind.

"Anything else?" The Hokage's voice held the briskness of a medic-nin who had to make urgent decisions.

"Actually, yes," Inoichi said. Not even waiting for Shikaku to finish crossing the room, he fished through the chuunin's pocket.

The glasses caught the light when he showed them to the Hokage. Joining his teammate, Shikaku clearly saw the Hokage's expression freezing and her eyes widening.

Every Leaf-nin had been provided with precise descriptions of the most important shinobis among their enemies – Grass, Cloud, especially Sound – and Yakushi Kabuto was the Sound's second nin.

Neither Shikaku nor Inoichi had paid much attention to Kabuto when he was still in Konoha; they'd sometimes crossed paths when the genin was serving hours at the hospital, but he'd been – well, mild, smiling, and harmless. And more than twenty years younger than they were, and a genin. To say their social circles did not overlap was an understatement. Still, not many shinobi wore glasses, and when Konoha ninjas added 'Sound' and 'glasses', what they got was Kabuto.

Tsunade took the pair of glasses from Inoichi's loose grasp and raised them to her narrowed eyes. She turned them over, studying them for a moment. Then she looked at the two jounins.

"These are Kabuto's," she said, "or a good copy."

She gave them back to Inoichi, with a steady hand.

It wasn't unheard of for a ninja to take a trophy from a high-ranking enemy, and glasses were decidedly less grisly than most. It was an unwritten ninja rule that you didn't take such trophies away if you could avoid it, unless you wanted to make a point of treating your prisoner badly and sought to strip him or her of all shinobi honor. In Hinata's case, that the Hokage didn't wasn't particularly telling.

The two of them didn't leave as Tsunade ran her chakra-coated hand a few inches above Hinata's body; they were awaiting her diagnostic with an intensity that – well – said a lot about how war could unite a village against a common enemy.

Ninjas shouldn't get attached to people, especially people they'd never really talked to, and who may well be spies – and who wielded a powerful bloodline limit to boot.

So said the rules.

As the rules tended to leave unmentioned the fact that it was far better for your sanity – and thus for your long-term efficiency – to fight for people rather than for concepts, and as Shikaku had long ago determined that, while he'd be ready to get killed in the name of his village just as well as for his teammates and family, the latter would make him feel a lot less useless, he didn't need to lie to himself and pretend that he was only staying in the room because Hokage-sama hadn't given him leave.

The Hokage was going slowly, a lot more slowly than the chakra examination Shikaku had already seen performed on a battlefield as well as in the hospital; she was frowning in concentration. She looked like what she was seeing was disquieting.

Finally she dropped her hand by her side.

"They're most likely Kabuto's."

Inoichi made a noise that could easily pass for a question. Shikaku found himself agreeing. The girl didn't look like she'd gone through anything worse than a fight and one or two all-nighters. What could Tsunade have read in the Hyuuga's chakra flux that made her so sure of that conclusion?

The Hokage's look went from one man to the other, as if she was measuring them.

"I don't suppose I need to tell you that everything happening in this room is classified." She paused, crossing her arms. "You may tell Ino and Shikamaru that she's alive, as it'd be foolish to assume nobody saw you carrying her here."

Her nails drummed against her other arm.

"As for the rest, well, she's alive and will stay that way." She sent a look at the glasses, which Inoichi had put on the bedside table.

The tiny jerk of Inoichi's hand warned Shikaku that his friend was about to intervene before he said a word.

"Will she be somehow unable to return to her responsibilities as a chuunin?"

You had to give it to Inoichi, he knew how to word his concerns in a way that made it sound smoothly professional. It still wasn't entirely appropriate – after all, they were talking to the Hokage – but Shikaku acknowledged the skill Inoichi could put into his enquiries.

The Hokage didn't seem fooled, but the small nod told him that she approved and was willing to go along with it.

"Physically, she'll be fine."

A brief, biting smile flashed through Tsunade's face. She looked like she knew something they didn't, but the harsh implications didn't fit in with her relaxed composure, even if she was the Hokage. Hyuuga Hinata was the direct, legitimate heir to a clan that would usually be considered one of Konoha's most valuable weapons; Tsunade didn't look like she was particularly worried about the girl's other, non-physical state, which would otherwise make her inconvenient.

Of course, Godaime was a sucker for gambling and did have a few of the fatalistic character traits that went with it.

"I don't think it would be wise for her cousin to leave the front for now, though."

The Hokage wasn't smiling anymore, and she kept her gaze fixed on the girl's pale face as if she was seeing the complications dancing around it.

Once more, Shikaku took in stride that some things were really, honestly off with the Hyuuga. He'd never been a personal acquaintance of the heir (the perpetually on-the-brink-of-demotion half-disgraced heir) and her cousin (her fanatic-protector-who'd-once-tried-to-murder-her prodigy of a cousin), and, logically speaking, the whole thing made no sense. Logically speaking, there was no reason Hyuuga Neji leaving the war zones would be envisaged at all. Logically speaking, Neji would need to be mad to even want to weaken the village's position in the war.

He found that his gaze had slipped to Hinata's face as well. Beside him, Inoichi was covering his emotions.

At this point, there was no discounting that her sanity may well be fragmented beyond healing abilities. Shikaku remembered that her first move when she'd seen him had been to dispel a non-existing genjutsu, Kabuto's glasses (spy, medic-nin, Orochimaru's second in command) only reinforcing the probability. He was beginning to see why the Hokage wanted Hyuuga Neji as far away and involved in other occupations as possible.

The three of them stayed silent for a moment, looking at the sleeping girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:**The Return  
**Author:** Runespoor  
**Rating:**PG-13  
**Summary:** In the middle of a war the usual thing is that people die. It's more unusual when they return alive after having been thought dead for three months. Hinata, after being a prisoner in Sound, does.  
**Notes:** TemaShika in later parts, implied NejiHina. Politics, original Ino-Shika-Chou, life during a war, some Ibiki. Very little angst. Takes place in the same universe as **Oversights and Celebrations** (Celebrationverse), can be read on its own.

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**II.**

It wasn't a stir that told Tsunade that the girl was waking up, but a slight flare in her chakra – the instinctive reaction when one came to. She signaled Ibiki with a glance, and the man came closer, towering above the still body.

Tsunade had worked hard to restore the normal flow of the chakra in the girl's pathways. Orochimaru must have given specific orders to have her body in decent physical condition, or else Kabuto liked to work on a blank canvas, starting anew every day or so, because she sported no scars or signs of lasting harm other than a rampant malnutrition. She'd been healed, very often, Tsunade could tell, because every healing technique had left vestiges in the girl's chakra patterns, and it was so cleverly done that without those leftover imprints, she would never have guessed. Kabuto, Tsunade acknowledged, was a remarkable medic-nin.

Under normal conditions, the flux of the chakra would slowly erode those traces until they were almost completely faded, but since her chakra had been sealed so she couldn't use it, the marks stood sharp and clear. Actually, it wasn't so much that there were marks that her chakra looked like an abstract mosaic which had been smashed in a thousand pieces.

The Hokage hoped that the girl's mind and loyalty hadn't given in the way the rest of her had, and regretted that the questioning she needed to be submitted to would trample on whatever remnants of – sense or whatever – she might still possess.

The Sannin part of her felt a sort of queasy curiosity for what she had lived through for the past thirteen weeks, and Tsunade had to keep a firm rein on her 'genius medic-nin' voice, which was currently whispering her fascination and trepidation and professional envy for what Orochimaru and Kabuto may have discovered and achieved during that time. The last time Tsunade could recall having this reaction had been when she'd learnt the circumstances which had led Orochimaru to leave Konoha.

Neither Tsunade nor Ibiki tried to disguise their presence – as if the girl could even feel chakra signatures with the state her own chakra was in – but they were breathing silently, mostly out of habit. They were standing on opposite sides of the girl, waiting for her to reach a decision on what to do. Even if she remembered her fainting in the forest and realized that she was instead lying on a bed, and even if she attacked, she wouldn't be able to land a hit before one or both of them could stop her.

It didn't take more than three seconds for her to reveal she wasn't sleeping. Apparently she must've thought there was no point in pretending; and this, Tsunade thought, already told them that she wasn't undamaged. The girl Tsunade had known, for all her submissive patterns, wouldn't have been one to forfeit as long as she wasn't out cold.

Her eyes squinted and fluttered open.

"Kabuto…" Her voice was a bit hoarse, and Tsunade could pinpoint the exact moment her eyes came into focus by the way she added, "…'s glasses?"

It was an impressive show of self-control and adaptability, but it would have fooled no-one, except maybe Naruto. The first word had been a distinct call. The familiarity of it sent a small chill down Tsunade's spine.

"On the bedside table," Tsunade answered.

The girl glanced at the table, twisting to face it, reaching over to touch them. She ran a finger on the frame in a way that mixed wonder and longing, then settled back into a lying position, as if the small move had exhausted her. She wasn't trying to hide her peaceful smile as she greeted them.

"Hokage-sama," Hinata said softly. "Ibiki-san."

She seemed to have admitted she wasn't under a genjutsu, which was good news. There's not much you can do to help somebody back to sanity if they insist that what they're living is not real, and Konoha's expert in desperate cases – the brat himself – was too occupied dealing with the most desperate of all cases to be bothered to remember that his village might actually need him in a more useful capacity.

Then a tiny frown appeared between Hinata's eyebrows.

"Near the village – it wasn't Shikamaru-san, was it? The scars – it was Nara-san?"

Waiting for the part of Hinata's confusion that would explain her reaction away, Tsunade nodded.

"Is Shikamaru-san dead?" Hinata's eyes were slightly too wide; it was the only thing that betrayed her tension. The rest of her was all candid determination to obtain an answer.

"…No, he's not," Tsunade slowly said.

Hinata's eyelids closed for a moment.

"And Kiba-kun isn't dead either, is he. And neither are Ino-san and Chouji-san, and Gai-sensei, and Lee-san, and Gaara of the Sand," Hinata recited. There was something deeply unsettling about the way hope and disillusionment blended together in her tone.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open; her entire body was so taut it was almost trembling, and in the panic displayed on Hinata's face Tsunade could see real shadows.

"Neji – Neji-niisan, and Naruto-k-kun, a-are they…"

Tsunade grabbed the girl's hand, keeping her patient from hyperventilating.

"They are alive."

Hinata's eyes flickered to the bedside table with something that might be guilt or might be something else entirely.

Tsunade and Ibiki's eyes met above the girl.

"Why did you believe that?" Ibiki's usually gruff voice had assumed a soft tone, trying to make her trust them, make her want to talk. Even if village security demanded better reassurance, it might give Hinata time to get her used to her surroundings.

Tsunade disliked torture as a rule and despised the idea of breaking through one of her own Leaf citizens. Because it was Orochimaru they were fighting against, though, she had no choice. It was Orochimaru's fault that she had to, and since Orochimaru had been her teammate, her friend once, since he'd been her responsibility, Orochimaru was her fault. It made her twice responsible for the girl looking up at them, head cocked to the side with a slight smile, as if she was hearing something they hadn't said.

"He told me who died but he never told me Neji-niisan and Naruto-kun were killed." She smiled ruefully. "He knew I wouldn't have believed him if he told me that."

"He?" Ibiki prodded.

"Yes; Kabuto." She sounded perfectly poised. She must have sensed something in the pause after she spoke, because she went on. "Oh – I didn't believe him. Believing him made things easy. Like a cage. …But… Not believing him… it didn't make sense."

Ibiki leaned until he was five inches away from Hinata's ear. Tsunade doubted the girl was aware of it; she spoke like she was focused on something inside her. Those were just things that needed to get off her chest if they wanted to go anywhere with this. And probably, they'd learn more about the way she'd related with Kabuto, and he seemed to have been the prominent presence in her life as a prisoner.

"Why wouldn't it make sense?"

A slow, derisive smile curved Hinata's lips. "There was only him."

Something in the way she said it, that something made Tsunade want to close her eyes and to protest. No, no, really, Hinata was too perceptive for this. It didn't help a lot that every medic-nin knew that anyone, winding up in such a situation, could come to feel strongly about their torturer, no matter the feeling.

Tsunade took a breath, and found herself hoping that at least Hinata'd been spared some things. "When you say there was only him, what do you mean?"

The blank Hyuuga look – the one which Neji had perfected as if it was a S-rank jutsu – was turned on her. Then the illusion was broken and it was once more Hinata who was smiling.

"Kabuto kept me alive." The smile was too distant. "Now I've killed him."

Ibiki sent Tsunade a look that meant he'd had the same idea and he didn't think it mattered. Hinata was strangely sibylline, and the more they beat around the bush the less she seemed to make sense; they were going to have to start pressing, or they could do what duty demanded they do and make sure she wasn't a spy of Orochimaru's, and later worry about putting her back together.

Hinata's face turned slightly toward the bedside table again.

"…Maybe you could start now, Ibiki-san," she suggested, without tearing her gaze away from the glasses. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

By that moment, Tsunade had guessed that they'd probably need to conjure a genjutsu or a henge to impersonate Kabuto at some point, and she'd already been thoroughly revolted by the perspective.

Now what she wanted more than anything was to ask him – the real Kabuto – the one whom Hinata apparently believed she had killed – what he had done to make her give her permission to the people who were going to interrogate her. She could already imagine what he had done to make her know when she was going to be tortured.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Return**

* * *

**III.**

With their friend at the hospital, it wasn't surprising that Shikaku and Inoichi went there as often as they could, once or sometimes twice a day. When Shikaku confronted his inner Yoshino voice – the one that criticized him when Yoshino didn't, over things Yoshino would never have reproached him – he admitted that it was probably pushing it, as Chouza wasn't in any danger and just needed time, but the medic-nin wasn't born who'd try and keep teammates at bay when one of theirs was in the hospital.

It was another of those unwritten ninja rules.

Besides, Shikaku and Inoichi were experienced jounin and respectable, upstanding citizens – most of the time – so they knew not to nag the hospital employees.

Nowadays there were only a couple of full-fledged medic-nins attached to the Konoha hospital, and the Hokage for the visits she managed to cram in her overloaded timetable – the others had all been sent on the front. Tsunade had even dispatched her assistant; Shizune's skills, she said, would be more usefully employed in war zones. The genins fresh out of the academy were used as helpers and taught the basic life-saving gestures under the charges of a handful of their older counterparts, while veterans, too patched up and old for the Hokage to envisage them as potential weapons, ran most of the organizational work.

The hospital had changed, drastically, and Shikaku, who'd lived through and remembered the great wars, wasn't sure what to think of it. Logically speaking, it was a much-needed rationalization of the workings of the village for the time being, but it also made the average civilian more aware of what was going on.

Not that a reasonably intelligent civilian wouldn't notice it, of course; Shikaku had civilians in his family and the Nara clan wasn't even half as grounded in civilian society as the Yamanaka, so he knew that much.

But still, he couldn't help the idea that civilians were to be protected. They had no special skills, no control on their chakra, most of them wouldn't even be able to stand their own on a fight against kids at the academy – without even speaking of bloodline limits.

What they did was they allowed the village to _work_.

That was more than enough; it was up to the shinobi to keep their end of the bargain and protect the whole population. And if the ninjas couldn't – then the civilians were within their full rights if they chose to whisper against the ninjas.

Shikaku had witnessed it during the great wars; the contempt most ninjas had against civilians, who didn't know what it meant to fight and kill and die, and the distrust civilians responded with. What good was it to live in a Hidden Village, led by a shinobi and meant for shinobi, if the shinobi couldn't even do their jobs correctly?

Then, right after the end of the wars, when a new, shining, charismatic young Hokage had been chosen – the ninja who'd risen to fame because of the willpower he put in the peace treaties, a man who was the first shinobi from his family, someone the civilians had been ready to trust – the Kyuubi had attacked.

The village had been ravaged.

No war had ever entered the gates of Konoha – no war had ever been fought behind the safety of those walls.

It should have been the last straw – crushed every tiny bud of re-growing faith - and Konoha should have been destroyed and abandoned by its civilians. Shikaku couldn't help but think ensuring the unity of the village was one of the reasons Yondaime sacrificed himself. Yondaime was – or became – a symbol. The whole village uniting as one to defeat the monster. (It had taken Shikaku years to realize that Yondaime's legacy – the Kyuubi vessel – was also a symbol. One of hate.)

Civilian-ninja division in the village was a very real problem.

So Shikaku was always surprised when he went to the hospital and realized that the countless majority of doctors, nurses, and other employees were now civilians. Before the war had started, there had been a small proportion of civilians working there, but civilians usually went to their own civilian doctors, who worked in private cabinets or one of the civilian clinics, and didn't have anything to do with shinobi.

Yet since war broke out, though, civilian workers had begun to flock towards the ninja hospital, which really didn't heal only shinobi any longer.

Not only that, but Shikaku had noticed that an increasing number of civilians were studying at the ninja academy – and they weren't children, they were adults, who, if they'd started the academy at a normal age, would have graduated ten years or more before.

There were civilians out there who'd been born during the great wars, and who could remember Kyuubi's attack, and who'd resolved to become shinobi – civilians who'd never seemed attracted by the notion of fighting-and-killing-and-dying in real life and not merely in cheap thrilling novels, and who were now getting ready for the academy exam. Or who'd already passed it.

Adult civilians who had first-hand grounds not to trust ninjas to protect them, and who had decided to go and _become_ ninjas.

It was a little overwhelming, Shikaku privately thought as he was greeted by one of the hospital receptionists, a red-haired woman in her twenties who'd previously been concentrating on her reading.

Next to him, Inoichi nodded towards the scroll. "Henge?"

"If only. No, walking up walls."

"Chakra control not easy, huh?" Inoichi sounded sympathetic. Shikaku thought it was damn hypocritical coming from him, but didn't comment. The red-head hadn't blushed so far.

The woman gave a dry laugh.

"You can say that again. You'd think that, logically, the more chakra you give the better you can adhere to the bloody wall."

She had the resentful tone of someone who'd been failing an exceptionally easy trick for a long time when she managed without breaking a sweat to complete far more complex moves.

If she'd started the academy as a child, she could have left the academy without ever worrying about walls and chakra control, and she might even have made it to chuunin, with the right luck. (Without luck, she'd have died during her first week out, because she'd have lost her balance as she painted a roof. That sort of freak accident had happened.)

Shikaku understood why the most basic chakra control exercises had been included in the things students had to be able to master in order to leave the academy, especially with the war.

It was the sort of things that were usually left to the jounin-sensei of the teams that had passed the last part of the test to become genins, and usually the jounin-sensei did teach those bits, over the following weeks or months, depending on the pace they wanted to set or the missions given to their teams. After all, it wasn't as if there was any urgency, unless you counted the eventuality of the chuunin exams.

But now… War didn't allow for time. Shikaku, who unlike Inoichi had never wanted to have a team of genins, now found himself acting as a sort of surrogate jounin-sensei for a good proportion of the genins who were staying in Konoha until they were ready to be sent on the war zones.

As one of the few senior jounins residing in the village, Shikaku was one of those who decided whether or not kids who'd graduated from the academy barely a handful of months or so ago could be trusted to fight and not have a mental break down – the way Hyuuga Hanabi had broken down, though Shikaku had to admit she'd had _extenuating_ circumstances. Still, he was exceedingly glad he hadn't been the one to send the girl to war without making sure she had decent defenses against genjutsu – Byakugan or not. Hyuuga Hiashi had always put too much stock in his younger daughter, acting towards her as if she were five years older.

Inoichi laughed at something the woman had said. She flashed him a smirk that Shikaku could almost have called appealing if he'd been sure Yoshino wouldn't take it the wrong way if she were here, and Inoichi's lips twisted in a far-away smile.

When he was in that mood, waiting for Inoichi to be finished was hopeless. Chouza and Shikaku had used to roll their eyes a lot, but with the years they'd learned to simply take it in stride. With a wave of his hand, Shikaku indicated that he was continuing to Chouza's room, and nodded goodbye to the woman.

Inoichi caught up with him a few minutes later. By then, Chouza had already told him he'd be out in three days at the longest and they were making small talk, effortlessly avoiding all the necessary subjects – the kids, Yoshino's latest row with her husband, the kids' absence, Chouza's amusement at Shikaku's failed attempts to get Yoshino to forgive him for whatever he'd done, the kids' being late for report by five days.

Chouza just needed to look at Inoichi when his teammate entered the room, and chuckled.

"So, got a date? She pretty?"

"Don't encourage him," Shikaku warned as Inoichi took a chair, spinning it around so he could straddle it, arms hanging over the back. "We've decided long ago it's not good policy to date at work, and this," he gave an all-encompassing gesture of the finger, "is the hospital. Off-limits."

"Oh, she works at the hospital?" Chouza seemed interested. "Who is it? Do I know her?"

Shikaku snorted. "I doubt _Inoichi_ knows her."

Chouza sent Shikaku a look that said plainly that Inoichi's promiscuity wasn't half as indiscriminate as Shikaku claimed, and that blatant sarcasm wouldn't deter Chouza from hearing the last installment of the great Inoichi Looking for True Love saga.

"Boys, boys." Inoichi raised in hands in a calming gesture. "First, I have no intention whatsoever of dating Kaede-san, who's young enough to be my daughter. Second, she wants to be done with the academy by next month anyway, so I will be helping her with her chakra control until then. Third – I know her, you're just the one who keeps mixing people up."

Shikaku wondered how much Inoichi honestly believed of what he said. He gave it two weeks; he informed Chouza of his estimate by discreetly raising two fingers of his right hand, as Inoichi was sitting on his left. Chouza's dispassionate look meant that he was on.

"She mentioned a boyfriend?" Shikaku casually inquired.

Inoichi looked startled.

"Er, no."

Chouza was stifling a laugh.

This, Shikaku reflected, was the exact reason he'd never wanted to be a jounin-sensei. It already felt way too much as if he was being the responsible figure of his teammate's life when it came to love and dating – and Shikaku was fully conscious of the irony of it, as Chouza had once declared him to be 'whipped' by his wife – and _that_ had been for Inoichi's benefit. There had been no doubt in Shikaku's mind that Chouza had quietly reached his conclusion ages before.

Being mildly protective - making sure they at least somewhat recognized what they were getting into – was the sort of things you were supposed to do for your kids. …Well, it was true he'd never been able to do the same for Shikamaru.

And by the way, he probably should, though it'd come years too late and would only be met with Shikamaru's blankest look. The little twerp probably wouldn't take _his_ advice seriously, and Shikaku had to admit it was only the accumulation of years upon years of little signs that made him register the obvious, in all its casual, unstated glory. The best he could hope to manage was embarrassing his son in front of his Sand girl, and – he'd have to carefully weigh the pros and cons.

Beside, he didn't doubt Shikamaru knew what he'd got into, or at least had a vague idea, or had come to realize it – because, as Shikaku once more told himself, it really was way too late, and _he_ had never been that precocious, and how would he have been supposed to guess what was going on when his son's retelling of his match at the chuunin exams had been cursory at best (the kids had made the original Ino-Shika-Chou swear they wouldn't come and embarrass them)?

Admittedly, the girl's presence after his son's first mission as a chuunin should have tipped him off, but he'd been more focused on his son's depressed mood at the moment, and the boy had been as intent as ever on his 'girls are troublesome' way of life, and he'd even mentioned her in that context afterwards. …And that was a dead give-away.

On the other hand, Inoichi tended to get in over his head.

Shikaku had only ever met one man who'd been even more of an oblivious flirt than Inoichi, and of whom he'd been even less sure if the man did it on purpose, or if it was because he'd been raised that way, or if it was only a side-effect of his overpowering charisma, and that had been the Fourth Hokage.

They spent a few minutes more joking, until Chouza reminded them he was still at the hospital for a reason. Both of his teammates knew better than to argue – as an Akimichi who'd used military drugs since he was out of the academy, Chouza knew to take health recommendations very seriously. It was a bit of a paradox when one thought of his behavior when faced with actual danger, but Shikaku and Inoichi also knew better than to argue with that very specific brand of Chouza logic.

Upon leaving Chouza's room, the two men stopped for a moment in the corridor.

It was for once completely empty, a fact rare enough in those troubled times, and the silence of the place, only broken by the hisses of medical machines in the distance, considerably sobered them. Hospitals. Not places easily dealt with. That much stayed the same for ninjas and civilians. Having a friend at the hospital always shook you up, and it wasn't such a reassuring thought that Chouza had had it much worse and was in no kind of danger whatsoever. No matter the actual risk, nobody likes to have a friend there. Period.

They made a detour to leave the hospital, walking past the room in which they'd left the little Hyuuga girl one week ago – in which they knew she no longer was; they'd known it since the second day, when they'd seen an injured messenger laying in the bed, through the open door. They'd heard nothing about her since that night.

Shikaku thought of the message which must have reached her teammates and sensei since then, and wondered if such letters had been extended to also include the other members of the Rookie Nine which could be reached – which only left her cousin's team, which wasn't part of the Rookie Nine to begin with, though now, for everyone, they were. As for the two other teams – his son's was late and Shikaku had no idea whether the Hokage and the missing Team Seven were in any kind of contact.

He wondered about Hyuuga Neji's reaction, if he knew his cousin was alive, how badly he took being forbidden from returning to Konoha, if he was any less suicidal in his actions. Unbidden, he also wondered about the Hyuuga clan. They were probably in turmoil. Again. Still.

A week was a long time to spend in interrogation. Not that Shikaku had any experience. At any rate, it felt like a long time.

"It's probably a good sign there's been no word since then," he told Inoichi.

Yeah, it meant they had no proof yet that she'd betrayed them.

"Still, one week's a long time," Inoichi said in a neutral tone.

Unlike Shikaku, Inoichi had some knowledge of what sent on in interrogation rooms, before he'd specialized his possession jutsus to make them into fighting techniques and not spying ones.

When they were chuunins, he'd been caught a few times inside the body of someone else and been dragged to torture dungeons, and as there was a limit to how far the mind could – literally – snap in order to go back to his original body, and of course the purpose of the missions had been to avoid further wars in the first place, his teammates couldn't just charge in, carrying Inoichi's limp body. Inoichi had had to wait for them to sneak past the Mist-nins and rescue him, as there was only so much chakra control you could have on the body of an untrained civilian clerk.

On the worst mission – the one when he'd actually been supposed to _impersonate_ a spy – he'd had to wait four days.

If Inoichi said a week was a long time, then it was.

Shikaku would have liked running into the Hokage, if at all possible, to have at least a guess of what to expect. It felt like there was nothing else they could do but wait, for the Hyuuga girl, for Chouza to be back on active duty, for their kids to come home.

It was more than a long time. It was forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Return**

* * *

**IV.**

The trip from Suna to Konohagakure was expected to last three days. Three days, that was, when there was no war going on, and no enemies to fight and traps to avoid triggering and then to fight their way out of, no detour needed to pick other people up according to someone else's directives, no precautions to take, in a word, no Shikamaru.

Luckily Shikamaru knew the country as well as someone who'd spent a lot of time going back and forth between Wind and Fire during the past four years could (it was unanticipated, as he hadn't, actually, made the trip himself all that often, but she supposed his being a genius must have some uses), so instead of making every possible mistake, he'd have only made about two-thirds if she hadn't been there to put him back in line.

More or less.

Of course the guy was a genius, and not one of those arrogant prodigy-types that Temari had come to associate with the word "genius", when in all actuality they were rather intellectually average people who were just ninja prodigies. Key word, ninja. There was one such example in their group – he'd been the cause of one detour, as they'd had to get him from a particularly twisted war zone.

Shikamaru was a genuine true-to-IQ genius.

That meant he knew when to listen to Temari's plans, something which previously mentioned ninja prodigy didn't always do.

As Shikamaru's best friend Chouji had sensibly reminded after they'd gone through a close encounter following Hyuuga Neji's advice, the Byakugan wasn't an infallible weapon, even Neji's.

Neji's sudden paling had confirmed a lot of Temari's suspicions, best summed up by 'something was seriously wrong with the guy'. A quick glance at Shikamaru had been enough to make sure that he'd noticed too. Not that Temari thought he wouldn't; for a genius, his perceptiveness in human relations was commendable enough.

The trip – twenty-one days so far from Suna to some unmentionable yet all important little fort to Konoha at last, hopefully – involved a lot of technicalities.

At that moment, Temari hated technicalities. Technicalities reminded her of the reason she hadn't been promoted to chuunin on her first try, and four years had indeed passed since then, Temari just felt petty. And resentful. And fed up with, among others, the fucking technicalities. (Kankuro generally said she was 'aggressive', a bitch, and in need of anger-management therapy as badly as Gaara had ever been. Kankuro would have had one more occasion to start smirking if he'd seen her now. Kankuro was currently snuggly holed up in his comfy position on the Suna frontlines. Temari hated Kankuro with the fire of a thousand inextinguishable midday suns.)

Technicalities were the reason she had to negotiate and shuffle around, again, rather than just confer with Shikamaru and then face the rest of their oversized unit and go, 'this is the plan'.

Technically, Temari and Hyuuga Neji were the only jounins in the group, and it made everything _a pain_.

Usually Temari would get Shikamaru, they'd think a plan up, then they'd have a quickie, and one hour later they'd make sure that everyone had understood what role they had to play, what they were hoping to achieve, and what they should do in the case it didn't work out (Temari left the fine-tuning of that part to Shikamaru; he was terrific at shougi and way more patient with idiots than her).

Hyuuga Neji's presence not only put a serious rein on the sex –

– and dammit, it was even worse now that she'd got Shikamaru to admit the lack of sexual release was getting to him too. It wasn't everyday that he was the one slamming her against a tree, and to have him grouch in a strained tone that she please stop acting so suggestive, because it was distracting him and he needed his wits about him had been, well, both eye-opening and frustrating.

Eye-opening because, though she knew he wasn't exactly reluctant, she was always the one initiating sex, and it felt good to know that she had some effect on him even when she wasn't grinding against him with her hand down his pants – _damn_ she needed to stop imagining how he'd feel, his short breath fluttering against her throat - right. Frustrating because the revelation had made her very hot and bothered, and the others had been less than two meters away, and all Temari had been able to think of was how she wanted to push him down _right now_.

Plus of course there had been her scoffing reply that she wasn't being suggestive. She was dirty, and tired, and so annoyed the only thing keeping her from throwing a hissy fit was that it wouldn't feel half as satisfying as the blessed silence she forced in her mind when she could stop the running commentary, and she was going to have Hyuuga Neji's eyes on a skewer.

(Temari had, in fact, rarely been in a state of such constant fury in her life. It was a testimony of Shikamaru's genius that he didn't ask if she was having her period. She hadn't been – which was a good thing, as it not only increased her bloodlust in a dramatic fashion and made her overly brisk and snappish, it also made her horny. Very, very, very horny. Which Shikamaru couldn't have failed to pick up with time, of course, so it explained why he hadn't asked.)

It was when Shikamaru had tersely replied that yes, he knew that. His fingers had been digging in her shoulders and Temari had realized then and there that he _liked it_.

Then she'd cursed the less-than-two-meters-between-them-and-the-others even more than before, as it felt like she'd never wanted anything more in her whole life than having sex with him just then.

The no-sex had obviously done something to her brain.

Okay, end of the digression. Hyuuga Neji's presence. Right.

It was a pain because as a jounin he threw everything off, and not merely the nice plan-then-sex pattern Temari and Shikamaru had had going, but also because technically, Shikamaru was only a chuunin.

It was the sort of technicalities that tended to fall by the wayside during wartimes, as time lacked to make things good and official, but the fact remained that Hyuuga Neji had been a jounin by the time he was fifteen, and that Shikamaru hadn't seemed to give the idea half a thought. It was one of those things that were pure Shikamaru, and which Temari didn't understand but shrugged off.

Once, Kankuro had been especially pissed at her because she'd made fun of the break-up between him and his former girlfriend, and he'd snarled that at least the ones he liked weren't lazy good-for-nothing asses who didn't have any higher aspirations in life than nailing the Kazekage's sister.

There had been silence, as Kankuro was fuming and waiting for Temari's retaliation, and Gaara was reviewing the situation and, maybe, the risk of her whatever-Shikamaru-was-to-her taking advantage of it. Or trying to wrap his literal mind around the metaphor. He'd got better with figures of speech, but he still wasn't going to become a purple prose writer any time soon.

She didn't know why, but she'd just shrugged and said she didn't get it either.

Temari had mixed feelings about Shikamaru's lack of ambitions, but mostly she thought he didn't need it to be a strategist mastermind and an efficient fighter and someone she wanted on her side. Sometimes it rattled, though.

Besides, aside from Neji, Temari knew the other people on her group; there was Shikamaru himself, his two teammates, and the twenty-six Sand-nins she was bringing to Konoha (they'd been thirty, but they'd left two at the place where they'd picked Neji up, as replacements; it wouldn't be enough), all of whom Temari had already worked with and knew well enough to rely on their skills and anticipate their weaknesses, but she had no such closeness with Neji.

Neji got on everyone's nerves.

…Neji, Temari noticed as she gave up on sleeping with a sigh, wasn't sleeping either – his blanket was folded next to his pack as if he'd only pulled it out.

She frowned, wondering what the crazy had invented next to put himself in danger as well as the rest of the group. Shikamaru hadn't been forthcoming with the details, but when they'd arrived to retrieve Neji as had been decided, he'd been taken aside by Aburame Shino, and Temari would have bet her fan it concerned the Hyuuga. She hadn't missed the way the Aburame's sunglasses had seemed to follow Neji when they were getting ready to leave.

Temari couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for the group. She couldn't let the carelessness of anyone jeopardize their security, even if that meant taking the other jounin down a few notches. And anyway, she was fed up with walking on eggshells.

Three of her chuunins were standing guard, the way she always instructed when she had to lead a large group – it was near impossible to catch three ninjas unaware at the same time, at least not unless there were card games or powerful genjutsu involved, and they were at war. There would be no card games.

When they saw her, one of them tapped his head, level with his eyes, signaling her about the Hyuuga. Temari nodded; if they'd seen him, then things were under control and she could slip away to find him.

She wouldn't go to sleep until she'd come to terms with Neji's presence.

She couldn't afford to let some unprofessional childish annoyance and some sense of loss of her-and-Shikamaru private time put them all at risk any longer.

(It was all the more infuriating because there were other couples in the group who weren't having sex either, and they seemed to be doing alright, even leaning one against the other for comfort. She and Shikamaru just didn't touch each other in public – even with the barest of brushes. It was their private business, dammit, and the sentimentality of the gesture rebuked Temari a lot.)

And if she could use the occasion to make a little more sense of what she'd gathered so far, then the lack of sleep would have been well-employed. (Another ninja would have taken one of the light sleeping pills that most of them carried in the prevision of rough nights, but Temari, after so many years with Gaara, found herself unable to. Better not sleep at all.)

Of course, Temari had some vague idea of what it was all about.

She'd heard about Hinata's death from Shikamaru's team; she'd been sorry for them, since it seemed to affect them a lot, but at the same time she wondered how it could be. It wasn't as if they'd ever been close. But then Temari herself had been oddly shaken by the news.

It was war and a shinobi's life was always dangerous, and Temari had hardly known Hinata from her visits to Konoha and a greeting here and there, but she'd been saddened nonetheless. Leaf-nins had a habit of growing on you when you were least expecting it.

Then the Aburame had told them Hinata was not, in fact, dead.

The Rookies were all supposed to be aware of it already, but the traveling group had missed the previous information points due to unforeseen problems within Temari's ranks – it had taken them a while to find the traitor, as neither Shikamaru nor she had wanted to murder an innocent just to be sure they'd get the culprit as well. Finally they'd realized the two suspects were accomplices.

Temari had felt rather annoyed that her heroic efforts to do the right thing and not follow her gut instinct – kill them both and be done with it – had been wasted on them.

The circumstances of Hinata's death had been pretty clear cut, but even then, it wasn't entirely unheard of that people sometimes unexpectedly turned up not to be dead after all. Temari had filled the blanks to understand that there was something big, and she'd have liked knowing what it was – if it was big, it was relevant.

It had to be big, for anyone to be allowed to go back to Konoha in the middle of the war for no better reason than that.

It had to be a Hyuuga thing, Temari deduced. Because the heir was unexpectedly alive, officially. Unofficially, it had to be a Hyuuga Neji thing – for him to return to the village when Hinata was only his cousin, and Shino was her teammate and _he_ hadn't left the site he was assigned.

There were things in the Hyuuga, and particularly between Hyuuga Neji and his cousin, that made Temari's family look functional by comparison. And Temari was including the previous generation in that statement. At least after her uncle had been ordered by her father to kill her little brother, he hadn't become the latter's staunchest protector – and there'd been no freaky seal and ritual enslavement to the other branch of the family involved either.

Dang, Konoha as a whole was one of the better-adjusted Hidden villages, but its great clans more than made up for it.

She was at that point of her thoughts when she caught the reflection of the moonlight on a hitai-ate – she hadn't been trying to move too silently, so he'd know she wasn't an enemy sneaking up on him. He must've glanced her way. Neji had the Byakugan; he had no need to turn his head if he wanted to look at her, so she took it to mean he agreed on being found.

She was probably pushing it by translating it as a welcome, but she did anyway.

"It's not your turn to stand watch," she remarked as she sat down a meter away from him, because it was as good a way to start talking as anything else, and it was her responsibility that Neji didn't further alter the safety of the mission.

"I'm not standing guard."

Temari accepted that. There were nights, you couldn't sleep. If he wasn't straining himself beyond that, it was none of her business.

Silence fell upon them. Temari regretted she hadn't outlined the conversation.

If Shikamaru caught her like that, damn but would he smirk. She was used to scaring people into submission, and giving orders, and when she was in Konoha she had no trouble communicating with the Hokage, and the only times she had to be careful was when she and her brothers were having an unpleasant discussion, and she could deal with Gaara and could even make it with Kankuro without him refusing to speak to her for more than a few days.

She was trying to estimate whether confronting him head on would make him clam up as badly as she thought when his voice broke through her thoughts.

"You're really not the jealous type, are you?"

Temari blinked, then arched an eyebrow. What did that have to do with anything? …Also, she, not jealous?

Neji gave a jerk of his chin towards what could loosely be called a ninja camp.

"Ino," he added.

That again. She should have known.

Temari shrugged. "So I'm not."

"Most people in a long-distance relationship wouldn't be so comfortable if someone of the opposite sex was so close to their significant other."

His manner was too offhanded. Her eyes narrowed. There was something behind that. What, he was in a long-distance relationship himself and worried about his girlfriend? Would _that_ truly be enough to throw his behavior off that badly?...

She opted for playing along.

"She's his teammate. She's known him since they're _toddlers_, and she doesn't register him as a male." Ino was probably more aware that Chouji was a boy – even if it was to remark on his eating habits. Of course the three of them were going to have things in common that Temari couldn't share. "And even if she did, I wouldn't much care one way or the other."

Unlike the amount of time Shikamaru chose to spend with his friends when she was in town. Even then, she agreed that it wasn't entirely a bad thing that they both had time to breathe and she could do what she'd been sent to do. It was annoying, but a necessary evil. Also, as far as friends-for-Shikamaru went, Temari would probably have picked Ino and Chouji if given a choice among the Rookies.

"You're not jealous, you're possessive." Neji looked thoughtful, as far Temari could interpret the expressions of a Hyuuga.

It sounded about right, but it still didn't make much sense in the general context. At least to her. Temari wondered if Neji knew what he was trying to get out of her, and debated whether it was worth trying to fish for more information. Probably not, it would only defeat the purpose of the discussion.

He was apparently trying to regroup.

Temari could only hope that he wouldn't pick at whatever was on his mind until it was a festering wound.

"How much longer until we reach Konoha?"

And that was another reason why Temari felt like the one in charge of the group; Neji never acted like he was the leader – or one of the leaders.

Occasionally he screwed things up on his own, as if he was fighting alone, but he never put authority behind what he did. He wasn't a leader in any sense of the word; even when he took a decision, it was as if he was merely making sure that everyone knew what was requested of them. It felt as though he was obeying someone else's orders.

Branch House of the Hyuuga.

"Another two days if we don't run into any more trouble," Temari answered, and if Kakashi's group had cleaned the area, she didn't add.

Neji turned his blank eyes toward her. "That's already what you said a week ago, you and Shikamaru. We were closer to Konoha than now."

They'd also been east of Konoha, whereas now they were southwest. Such were the hazards of shinobi wars.

"Helping Sai out of that ambush was necessary," Temari mechanically said, as if Neji's observation didn't border on the verge of treason, as if he wasn't right and it hadn't been most likely a loss of time, as if Temari hadn't cogitated long and hard before finally deciding that she couldn't spare any Sand-nins to help him reach Kakashi, as if the four days they'd spent escorting him and taking care of his pursuers hadn't glowed red in her mental calendar.

She'd reassured herself by reasoning that she was supposed to help Konoha, and that was what she was doing. Shikamaru hadn't stopped her, neither when she'd decided that they'd take the long way for Sai nor when she'd decided he had to go on alone. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

Need to disband the gloomy second-guessing now.

"Why are you so jumpy anyway?" she called, wrapping her arms around her knees. "If it's about your cousin, she's probably been sent off on active duty again. It's been a while since you received word about her, hasn't it?"

For a moment, Temari thought he wasn't going to answer.

"…Eleven days."

He sounded – strained, for lack of a stronger word. Temari quickly calculated that Hinata must have been back in Konoha for two weeks, adding the few days it must have taken the message to reach Neji's unreachable location.

Being out and working again was the best thing that could happen, then.

She addressed Neji a long, silent stare of incomprehension.

"It's about the Hyuuga."

Temari considered.

"Your cousin is the new head of clan?" she checked.

A snort escaped Neji's lips, almost bitter, then he got himself back under control, but his face stayed frozen in an air of utter self-possession.

Please, no. Let it not be about succession matters. No. He was supposed to have got better with the years; supposed to take his role as a protector as if it were his _life_, according to Shikamaru who couldn't be accused of needless melodrama.

On the rare occasions Temari had had to work with him in Konoha, he'd looked serene, like someone who'd made his peace with his lot in life – ironical since his discourse attested he no longer believed in fate, but Temari wasn't such a hypocrite that she'd point out private contradictions in other people. She had her fair share of them.

She remembered well his fight against his cousin during the prelims of her first chuunin exam, the beginning a little better than the end, when she'd been worried about Gaara's state. She had clear memories of Neji's cruelty when he spoke to Hinata, and she remembered thinking – dazzling like the white dunes glaring in the middle of the day – that the girl had to be mad to needle him the way she did. Temari had known what the wise course of action was because it was the same with Gaara; stand down before he takes any personal interest in whether you live or die.

But the girl had never surrendered, even when it was clear that she was fighting in vain, marking her as even crazier than the boy who later went against Gaara. And she'd survived, proving that she was even luckier than that Naruto kid with his farting attack.

Please let it be something else, she prayed.

Please let it not be that the most important member of the Branch House of the Hyuuga is jealous of the most likely chief of Konoha's premier clan. Please let it wait until we've won before the Hyuuga of Konoha shreds itself up from the inside. Please not in the middle of the war.

Please let her be reading too much into Neji's snort.

"If the council has anything to say about it, she won't be." It looked like he was staring at the sky. "That is the reason we have to hurry," he finished quietly.

Temari removed her arms from around her knees, stretched her legs, crossing her ankles, and shifted so her hands, slightly behind her, were supporting her. She steadily looked Neji over.

She was learning more about the Hyuuga clan politics than she'd ever hoped she would, and she'd be damned if she didn't take advantage of it.

"Care to explain?" Her voice, she noticed, had taken the tone she employed when her subordinates had blatantly screwed up.

Neji's look said that he realized she'd been very untactful, but he let it go. It told Temari that he was judging the situation dire enough to regard her as a potential ally.

A potential ally.

Oh,_shit_. Now she'd gone and got involved. If she backed out now, Neji would resent her, and Temari didn't know enough about the situation to guess whether he'd be in any position to retaliate later. He was a rising star in Konoha, the youngest jounin of his generation, a ninja prodigy by all accounts, as well as a Hyuuga, so Temari chose not to underestimate his potential influence.

Neji had seemed to sense her inner debate – Temari made a note to remember his analytical skills in the future – and had waited for her to reach a final decision, which meant that it'd be _final_.

Temari raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Oh yeah she was bragging. She was making what might possibly be her biggest mistake yet in her diplomatic career, with all the political repercussions it could have on the relations between their two villages – it'd have been paranoia if she'd been anyone but the Kazekage's sister and he'd been anyone else but the exceptionally prone-to-disproportionate-grudges Hyuuga genius. She was allowed a flash of hysteria, and _damn_ if she couldn't brag to cover her nervousness.

Neji curtly nodded.

"Hinata-sama is only the head by default, because no-one else has a stronger or equal claim to the position as she does. It wouldn't take long for the elders to devise an excuse why she wouldn't be fit as the head."

"Isn't that what you think?" She refrained from adding he'd certainly made a fine job of looking the part.

She was taken aback by the glare he shot her.

"What I think doesn't matter. Hinata-sama is, by right, the head of the Hyuuga."

"…So that's the reason you support her claim, out of guilt and duty?"

Temari wondered if she was impressed, then decided on the negative. He was just the sort of stick-in-the-mud that'd waste his life for duty, rather than taking chances and making choices to change things the way he wanted. Once upon a time he'd been ready to waste his life for fate, and now what? She'd be nice and assume he wanted to shoulder the consequences of his actions.

It still smelled like guilt.

"Even if it were, it's my choice to make," he remarked, answering more her hidden contempt than her feigned skepticism.

Temari fleetingly wondered if he'd ever given a thought about a career in spying. Then she wondered how it would look if she asked him when he'd known there was something between her and Shikamaru, beside off-topic.

"But it's not really an incentive for me to support you, is it?"

Neji looked at her as if he believed her profoundly dense.

"It wouldn't be me that you would support," he said slowly, as if he was explaining to Uzumaki Naruto that his cousin had a big honkin' crush on him.

Temari nodded.

"Okay. So you're not going to make your cousin the head so you can make her your puppet and be the one with the actual power, then."

She smiled at the way Neji's eyes widened in disbelieving rage, killing intent all over the place, and felt a pleasant thrill rush through her. Ahh, the joys of kicking ass through politics.

"Mind you, not that I'd object much if it were the case, because I think you're the strongest ninja the Hyuuga has to offer, but if I'm going to take a stance in the matter I'd like to know where I'm standing." It was a _filthy lie_ since she'd already noticed Neji would be exceedingly unsuited for a role as a political leader, but it proved that she wouldn't be shocked upon hearing the nasty truth.

"So tell me. Why do_you_ support _her_?"

She waited.

Neji's body language was screaming 'it is not my place to tell you; this is wrong'. Then it assumed the nonchalance of the shinobi concealing his feelings under a cool guise. Temari had seen Kankuro attempt – and fail – the look enough to know what he was doing.

"I think Hinata-sama would make a fine Head of clan," he said stiffly. He seemed to dare her to mock him.

Temari paused. The girl she'd seen hadn't had a lot to recommend her, not at first glance. She wasn't a bad fighter, and she was dangerous at close-range like all of the Hyuuga, but the adrenalin seemed to make her rely a bit too much on physical instincts, making her swifter and fiercer than her adversaries, but also more susceptible to get hit if her opponent was noticeably faster than she was or could accurately foresee her next reaction – Temari knew because once she'd seen Hinata and Lee sparring, as Hinata sought to improve her speed and Lee never turned down an offer for more training.

(He'd reddened in pride and embarrassment when Hinata has asked him to teach her. Temari had been horrified at the idea of being submitted to Lee's conception of serious training, but she'd been told not to worry about that. Lee, of course, was a master of taijutsu, and had pretty much wiped the floor with Hinata, who wasn't using her Jyuuken for obvious reasons.)

And when she wasn't fighting, she was discreet to a fault, soft and hesitant, a complete reversal of her fighting attitude.

She wasn't spectacular or eye-catching – a bit like the Gentle Fist technique itself, actually.

She never gave up.

Temari remembered witnessing a few exchanges between team eight in Konoha, Kiba loudly trying to impose his opinion, Shino coolly shooting his propositions down, and both minutely turning toward Hinata and waiting. Expecting. And Hinata had quietly found a middle ground, and they'd gone with it.

People tended to stop talking when Hinata spoke, Temari remembered, because her voice was so low and she spoke so rarely. People tended to go with what she'd said, too – maybe because she was always the last one speaking, maybe because she sounded so reasonable, maybe because they feared they'd hurt her. People tended to vaguely like her, somehow.

And people who went against her tended to regret they hadn't taken a longer way around, because the seeming shortcut had in fact turned out to be a wall of fucking_diamond_.

Hinata, Temari remembered at long last, was _stubborn_.

It was a dangerous thing in a leader, but she was also cautious in reaching decisions, and clear-headed when she wasn't in a fight, and she could stand her ground when she was.

Temari felt like the proverbial scales had fallen from her eyes, and didn't need to examine Neji's expression to know he was smirking – or the Hyuuga Neji equivalent.

"…Okay, I believe you," she said slowly. She shook her head, a bit dazed, and focused. "Why wouldn't the Hyuuga council approve, and do we know they wouldn't?"

They had to be concerned with the greatness of their clan; they wouldn't dismiss her just because the previous head had been displeased with her. …Sometimes Temari wished she had a clan too, just so she'd have a chance of understanding how Konoha worked, but she only had her brothers and anyway Suna was more oriented toward nuclear-types families.

Before she'd been to Konoha, she'd thought that the upside was that small families were less likely to gang up together and overthrow the village, and that a big clan would make the clan its first priority rather than the village. She'd thought it was more profitable to the Kage, and thus indirectly benefited to the whole village.

Since then she'd come to realize that clans were just too damn _bothersome_. It sucked the energy out of its members, encouraged rivalries between clans, sped up the creation of an aristocracy vs. the common, caused unneeded tensions, hindered the unity of the village, was clearly the_most pathological environment ever_, and kept the village paralyzed in its old ways instead of pushing it forward, to new grounds of undiscovered jutsus and better societal care.

Temari had a lot to say about the clan system, but as she was a smart girl, she only ever ranted to Kankuro when she got home and he was busy tweaking his puppets' newest gadgets. She didn't fool herself that he was actually listening, though he sporadically interjected the proper comment, could repeat word by word what she'd said, and ranted back at her when she said he wasn't paying attention, yelling that he was sick, sick, sick of her believing he was still fourteen and he was damn well interested in politics too, so would she please stop accusing him!

…Mostly he wasn't lying, because what Gaara knew of Temari's bluntest shouting fits had gone through Kankuro's matter-of-fact filter. It wouldn't do if the Kazekage started quoting his sister's tirades.

"The council wouldn't even consider Hinata-sama if they had someone else," Neji muttered.

"Don't they?" Temari looked pointedly at him. "You're their golden child, and you're Hinata's first cousin. It's close enough for succession."

Neji tapped his forehead protector.

"Branch House. My status as far as succession is concerned is that of a dead man." He sounded uncaring. "If the council is throwing my name around at all, it must be that they're playing for time."

Temari frowned. "Time for what? It's been a while since the previous head died. We're at war, and your cousin's reappeared! What can they possibly be waiting for?"

"Three months and a half," Neji mentioned. "I suspect they were hoping for a miracle. Of course," he added, "they got it, now it turns out Hinata-sama is alive."

Now was not the time for a headache.

"Then what?" What's it you're not telling me, Temari wanted to demand, but she didn't, because he'd earned a modicum of her respect. Clan politics. Give her international affairs any day.

Neji settled back more comfortably.

"I'm not sure if the news attained Suna, but the Hyuuga clan was spun out of its axis when our Head died. More than it normally would, without a head and with no heir apparent, I mean."

His hitai-ate caught the moonlight.

She snapped her fingers. It'd been in the reports, the barely coded ones that conveyed only news that enemies didn't need spies to learn anyway, the big big news, those that practically never came. She was a jounin and she had high responsibilities, she'd read them and learnt them by heart, and she'd looked so stupid, so flabbergasted, when she'd read this particular piece of info.

"The seal. The Hyuuga are all wearing the curse seal," Temari feverishly whispered. "After Hinata died – because her body wasn't found. A preventive measure in case the enemy got hold of a member of your Main House, right? Because the Hyuuga couldn't count on getting so lucky that next time a member of the Main House died, there'd be only ashes left."

Her words were stumbling out of her mouth, but yes, now she remembered, she remembered. She could glimpse at the impact Hinata's reappearance would have on the Hyuuga, too.

"Yes," Neji said in a tone echoing with satisfaction, "On Hyuuga Hiashi's orders." Temari noted that the suffix had got lost along the way. "His last order, given before he left the village. His best, too."

Temari, who'd almost-repeatedly lost a brother to seals and curses, took a moment to bask in Neji's sated resentment.

"So now Hinata is the last Hyuuga without a seal," Temari summarized. "How did the council react?"

"To the seals? I imagine they were not happy." Another glee-filled pause. "They must have been frightened by the possibilities of what Orochimaru could do if he could study the Byakugan freely, though, and in the emergency they couldn't request for seal specialists to pick the two folds of the seal apart – the pain it causes at the will of a member of the Main House and the sealing of the Byakugan at death. The complete seal was performed on the Main House en masse."

Neji wore a 'trained hawk who saw the beautiful peacocks end up as feathers in hats because they didn't know how to fly' expression.

Temari was reminded that once upon a time, Kankuro had judged Neji to be a freak – less so than Gaara, sure, but still.

"Wouldn't that make her all the better a choice for head of clan?" she sensibly asked. "If I was going to uphold traditions, I'd pick the most traditional candidate. …And by the way, shouldn't your council jump on the opportunity of having a Head that they could manipulate as they like?"

It was what councils everywhere dreamed about. Unless this was another thing that went differently in the Hyuuga of Konoha.

"…They might, for all I know, but I don't think they'll take that risk." Neji sounded speculative. Last time Temari had seen a similar expression, Kankuro had been trying to gauge whether Hidden Grass' gambit would be worth the blood-thirsty revenge-craving survivors that would emerge. "Hinata-sama never made a mystery of her politics, when you bothered to find out."

"Which the council doesn't approve of, of course. What would they be?"

Might as well get a head start as to what she was committing herself to. (And begin planning ways to delay their return to Konoha if Hinata's opinions clashed too violently with Suna's needs. Doubtful, but Temari hadn't made it where she was now by rushing into things without thinking through. …Most of the time.)

Once more, Neji's look told her he wasn't fooled.

If he was Sand, she'd have recruited him for intelligence purposes a long time ago. Heck, he might even make a half-decent ambassador, with that cultured attitude and what _was_ she thinking? He'd be terrible at it. Rigid and disagreeable and polite in all the wrong ways and devoted to things Temari couldn't even fathom. No, she'd trust him in an advisor capacity, if there was someone above him to take the decisions, or as someone working mostly alone and in the shadows.

And to say he was a jounin.

Yes, because how jounins were chosen had nothing to do with politics. As if Hatake Kakashi and Mitarashi Anko weren't Konoha jounins, the latter one of the _Special Jounins_ of unbalanced fame – besides being living proofs that mental stability was nowhere near a requisite.

Neji's black hair fell like a curtain when he turned his head away, and Temari couldn't see his expression anymore.

"…Hinata-sama's position in the clan has been… unclear… for a long while now. Muddled between the Main House, and the Branch House, and an outsider altogether. I would assume the council fears that Hinata-sama's concern toward the Hyuuga is not as developed as they deem appropriate. Or that she might lack the proper heeding for traditions."

Temari noticed that he didn't say whether the council put the clan above Konoha or not. At a blind guess, she'd assume they didn't – not consciously. But maybe she was trusting Neji's distaste and contempt too much if she was just thinking they were idiots. That said, Konoha's great clans didn't exactly have a stellar history of settling their own problems – not that they _should_. That was what the village organization was for.

"And according to you?" The hell. He was her only source of information anyway.

"Is this you trying to learn relevant facts to your analysis, or are you merely prying?"

Temari bared her teeth. That was to say, she grinned. Shikamaru would have groaned and complained that if she was going to blackmail him into losing with threats of withholding sexual favors, he'd just put the shougi board away.

"Just answer."

Now Shikamaru would be contemplating the scattered remains of their shougi game – mournful, or smirking, or nonchalant, or smug, or past that stage and already tugging at her clothes.

"It's not my place to tell," he actually said, in a level voice.

…Yeah, that what was why he got on her nerves.

Temari took a deep breath and pushed her irritation down. How could you work out plans with someone who wouldn't even give you his opinion? (She blatantly disregarded that the majority of tensions of the non-fun kind with Shikamaru came precisely from the fact that he never hesitated on giving her a piece of his mind. They were both harsh critics.)

"It's mine to ask."

It looked like Neji was looking down. Temari suspected he was doing it on purpose, to be sure his hair would further obscure him from sight.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low – not a whisper, but the sort of low that came with not wanting to be overheard, and which, given their surroundings, Temari took to be mostly instinct. And paranoia. She welcomed both, and wrote Neji's loyalties down as 'anything relating to Hinata'.

"Hinata-sama doesn't give a flying fuck about 'the Hyuuga clan', and she's going to tear its traditions down."

His voice was low, and urgent, and Temari knew without a doubt that Neji saying the bare truth, and that Hinata didn't know the truth, and that Neji could read his cousin better than she could deceive herself. Temari had already witnessed Neji be wrong about Hinata once, though.

She was going to demand more explanations – yes, demand this time, because damn, one did not just spring things like that, and talk about destabilizing the Hyuuga – and the way Neji talked about it, it sounded like there wouldn't be a Hyuuga clan left and the prospect was Neji's most longed-for wish in life.

He cut her short, and his words were like a promise set in stone, like the silky softness of the desert sand rising up in whirlwinds.

"Hinata-sama supports Naruto."

There were many things that Temari could have reflected upon at that moment, and she acknowledged them as they flit through her mind. The Kyuubi's vessel – Gaara – Kazekage – Hokage – the Uchiha brat oh and Sakura-san – Orochimaru Akatsuki – the war – would be Naruto's fault if you were into these things, except that there'd been nothing and no-one forcing Orochimaru to attack Konoha – the war – right, death, except not – Naruto's a Leaf-nin who's gone AWOL but he's not a missing-nin is he and didn't their Godaime pull something like that – disappearing and leaving her village in time of need – except not to retrieve a teammate and not to do anything constructive – Naruto as Hokage – _Gaara_ – Naruto, Rokudaime.

Temari closed her eyes and thought about the quickest way to reach Konoha.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Return **

* * *

**V.**

When Nara Shikaku opened his eyes sometime around mid-afternoon – too early, for someone who'd spent half the night circling around the village, and then the best part of the morning supervising a number of the newest genins and their progress, trying to repress all feelings and afraid that he may one day succeed – he awoke to find his wife had sat on the bed next to him, probably about to shake him to full consciousness faster.

He registered the hitai-ate secured around her forehead – she was leaving – the squeaky swinging of the open window – no, she was _just_ back for a minute – and the delighted smile on her lips.

He propped to his elbows.

"Shikamaru is reporting to the Hokage." Yoshino's eyes were gleaming. "Everyone's well," and that meant Ino and Shikamaru and Chouji were alive and none had to be carried to the hospital, and now Yoshino would leave on her courier mission feeling better, because her son was alive.

"Who else was with them?" Shikaku interrogated as he haphazardly grabbed clothes.

He caught a glimpse of Yoshino's reflection, in the mirror. She was pulling a face.

"As if I was going to care! I'll have you know I ran all the way back here to let your sorry ass know Shikamaru was in town and where you'd find him when you, mister, are ready! And if all you want to know about is who else is with them, well then, you'll know soon enough, won't you, or at least you would if you _hurried_!"

Shikaku smiled faintly. Yoshino's cheeks had colored, two patches of pink that stood out when she was angry.

"You're right," he said amiably. Then, because she was leaving and he couldn't be sure that she'd be back at all, and if he wanted her to come back he'd better make sure she had a good reason, he called, as she hmmphed and went through the window again, to meet her team (which'd be waiting for her, Shikaku thought when he saw the clock; dashing back here had made her late), "Yoshino? Don't die before I do, right?"

She didn't pause in her roof-borne race, but Shikaku felt confident that she'd heard him. When she was back, she was going to yell at him a lot for shouting like a teenager with a crush where all the neighbors could listen. But it'd be alright.

The trick, Inoichi had assured him – as Inoichi was the original desperate-teenager-with-a-crush to actually _use_ the words during a war and not just think them – was to make it sound like a promise. (A Passionate Exclamation of the Heart, Gai would have said, but Inoichi didn't talk to Chouza for three whole hours after he'd said that. At the time, Gai was a student at the academy and Inoichi, who was still teaching there, didn't think mentioning the little ball of restless Energy was any fun.)

It didn't quite work like that with Yoshino. Nothing ever worked the way it was expected to, with Yoshino. (Shikaku never told his son that Shikamaru was supposed to be a pair of girls.)

Out of habit, Shikaku voiced it so that the decision was Yoshino's. So far, it had worked.

Arriving at the Hokage tower, Shikaku knew Yoshino had been right; the ground floor was crowded with Sand-nins, sitting on the floor with the harassed look of travelers everywhere.

On the side, his teammates were reuniting with their children – Shikaku nodded at them as he crossed the hall; Ino, her hair shorter than Shikaku remembered, waved back, and Chouji, interrupting his wordless communication with his father, smiled. They were looking good. Inoichi couldn't stop hugging his daughter, Chouza was beaming.

Shikamaru was nowhere in sight; Chouji pointed to the opposite doorway and gave an encouraging nod. He was in the Hokage's office, Shikaku translated, and Tsunade-sama had apparently given her authorization that he might join the meeting.

Shikaku knocked at the door.

Before the war, there'd have been at least two or three clerks or guards in the corridor, and maybe Shizune if she wasn't working elsewhere at the moment, but reducing the numbers of shinobi assigned to the Hokage's service by half had been Tsunade-sama's first move when they'd been attacked – and she only kept as much as she did now because of the paperwork, for which she had now less time than ever. Several of the special ninjas staying in Konoha had paperwork duty; Shikaku knew for a fact that Morino Ibiki shared his time between the decoding of the latest messages and his usual responsibilities of head of the Intelligence and Interrogation department.

"Come in!" Tsunade's voice rang clearly. Shikaku entered.

Tsunade looked up and the three shinobi sitting in front of her – because they'd been traveling for a long, long time now – turned to face him, and here was Shikamaru, in the left-hand seat, looking weary and whole and here, and brightening when he saw his father.

His son's back marginally straightened, and it looked a little less like he was slouching in front of the Hokage, though Shikaku pertinently knew that it had everything to do with the lessons his mother had worked hard to ingrain in him and the quiet-seeking instinct Shikamaru had developed as a result, and nothing at all with proper respect. Then it relaxed slightly, as if Shikamaru had remembered his mother had told him she was leaving on a mission, when they'd met at the gates.

The Sand envoy was looking at him with a blank expression, but in a glimpse Shikaku saw Temari send a crinkle-eyed, teeth-flashing grin to Shikamaru; then she looked back at him with a greeting stance, lips quirked. Shikaku thought there was something like sardonic gratefulness in her smile, but decided not to look too deep.

It would be much wiser to just ignore everything entirely and let Yoshino deal with it the way she saw fit.

On the kunoichi's other side was Hyuuga Neji, whose attitude, in complete contrast with Shikamaru's, was screaming with such tension that even a civilian would have picked up on it.

Shikaku tried not to stare. What was _he_ doing here?

Was there really such a risk – of him deserting, going against direct orders, snapping, who knew, wars provided no shortage of risks – that calling him back was the safer route?

"Sorry, Shikaku-san," Tsunade said in a cheerful tone – surely the consequence of the twenty-five or so Sand-nins lounging in her hall. "We weren't expecting you so soon. But do sit down – I was just telling our travelers about Grass' retreat."

He obediently dragged a chair next to his son's, who was watching him with raised eyebrows and a smirk. What, should he discuss his Hokage's commands, or – the corner of Shikamaru's lips twisted to mouth, 'whipped'. The twerp. Normally, Shikamaru's action shouldn't have gone unnoticed by the Hokage, but she was shuffling through the papers on her desk.

Shikaku very discreetly rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't react. He didn't see the point in looking at the Sand girl.

"If you are waiting for Intelligence, I could go in the corridor, Hokage-sama," Shikaku suggested.

Tsunade liked hearing the reports and receiving her war-time allies with Intelligence; Shikaku supposed it gave her another perspective as well as saved time. Time, like manpower, was precious.

The Hokage didn't look up from the scroll she was taking notes on, with brisk wrist moves. "As a protector of the village, you're going to be more or less directly concerned anyway, and that way you can pass the info to your teammates. I don't want to go through the same conversation three times."

At the far right, Neji bristled. Shikaku eyed him with distrust. He was no expert at reading people, but no-one could miss the younger jounin's agitation. The Sand-nin's jaw twitched, and Shikamaru's expression froze. Something's gonna give, he could almost hear Inoichi whisper.

"Hokage-sama, perhaps my presence here is unnecessary." Neji's back was ramrod straight, and he was staring right at her. "I should be with my clan."

A tiny groan escaped Shikamaru's lips.

This time, Shikaku did stare. Maybe he'd misjudged the gravity of the situation.

He wondered just for a moment if Neji really did think the Hokage was going to let him go like that, or if he was being deliberately rebellious, with his demure-sounding impatience. Studying the jounin's tautness, he realized that Neji hoped – blind to the immovable fatality.

Tsunade's earth-shaking sigh cut through the tension.

"I swear, kids nowadays… No, you can't. Just stay where you are – the Hyuuga won't disappear, and there's nothing for you to do at the compound for the moment anyway."

She looked at him meaningfully.

Neji's features shifted to take an expression of stony determination, and suddenly Shikaku thought he was seeing someone else.

"You'll be able to do what you want to do soon enough," the Hokage blithely went on, as she finished organizing the papers on her desk.

There was a soft, clear knock at the door. Tsunade smiled, as if saying, 'See?'.

"Come in!"

Hyuuga Hinata stepped into the Hokage's office.

Shikamaru's eyes widened. Temari sucked in a shaky breath. And Hyuuga Neji froze.

Shikaku sent a glance at the Hokage. Why such a violent reaction to – Tsunade-sama was smirking. Self-righteously smirking.

Like someone who'd virtuously predicted how badly you'd lose that fight, and sauntered next to you after you'd had your ass so relentlessly kicked you couldn't even remember your name, and didn't have the decency to put their smugness in a sing-songed 'I told you so'.

Oh, the _bitch_.

She hadn't told them.

When she'd said that she'd just been telling them about Grass, Shikaku hadn't realized it meant she hadn't told them about the village – about _Hinata_ – at all.

If Tsunade hadn't told Neji about his cousin – that she'd left the hospital four days before – then, well, Neji's intensity made a lot more sense.

The girl greeted them all with her soft, quiet voice, white eyes searching each of them as she called their name, starting with the Hokage and ending with her cousin – she stammered the last, not that Shikaku could blame her, what with the terrifying glare Neji was sending her way, but she didn't look down.

There was something odd about seeing the head of the Hyuuga made uneasy by a Branch House member, but Shikaku reminded himself who these two were.

Hyuuga Hinata and Hyuuga Neji had been dancing along the line of the truly bizarre for so long now that there was no reason a sudden modification in their circumstances would change that – not on the spot – not that Shikaku'd ever try and understand them.

Neji jerkily stood up, never taking his eyes away from Hinata, the move only a less smooth version of a scene that had happened countless times before, one of the quirks common with ninjas which other shinobi accepted as part of life, the opposite, just as extreme, of what he'd done during Shikamaru's chuunin exam.

Hinata flushed slightly as he walked toward her; there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, trembling. She stood, poised to fight or to flee – and, surprisingly for everyone who'd never met her before, she'd only flee if he didn't attack, because if he attacked she would never back down. Like Neji, her stance wasn't unusual, only more awkward.

Neji hovered for seconds on end a few meters away from Hinata, looking.

"Hinata-sama," he said, as if in answer to her earlier greeting.

Shikaku wondered what the Hokage was waiting for – expecting – but he couldn't look away, because just at that moment, Neji darted forward, too close to an unflinching Hinata, holding her gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and bowed.

Shikaku had seen members of the Branch House bowing to Hyuuga Hiashi, and he'd watched Hiashi acknowledge the gesture. This was not like it.

For one, Neji was bowing lower. For another, Hinata was smiling.

A symbol, Shikaku thought. The best member of the Bunke paying homage to the new head of clan. Assuring Hinata he wouldn't stand in the way of her power, maybe. …Or something else entirely, because it wasn't as if _Neji_ would do such a thing to Hinata. Nevertheless, Shikaku liked the symbolic explanation. It was clean and easy to grasp. …So it could definitely not be it.

Then Neji swiftly straightened and stepped aside, taking his chair out for her.

"Hinata-sama," he intoned, and there was a hint of – smugness? Relief? …No trying to understand the Hyuuga.

Hinata graced him with another of her ghostly smiles. "Thank you, Neji-niisan; for now my place is on the other side of the desk."

Shikaku mused that the way Neji kept his eyes from popping out of his head was very impressive. He knew he'd have been much more obvious if his wife, his son, or his teammates had sprung something like that on him, even if trying to come up with parallels for Hinata-and-Neji was meaningless. It was interesting how, when you met them separately, you could almost relate to them, and when they were together they became alien, too Hyuuga for anyone to understand them.

As it was, Neji had a very peculiar expression on his face when Hinata joined Tsunade, standing on her right.

Shikamaru stopped chewing on his lip. "You're replacing Shizune, Hinata?"

Under her fringe, Hinata blinked. "Oh, no."

"Hinata-san is working in Intelligence and Interrogation nowadays," Tsunade interjected.

Shikaku felt hackles rising at the back of his neck, watching Hinata's serene, distant smile. Of course it'd be too much to hope that anyone might leave an interrogation chamber with their sanity unscathed. (Another part of his mind noted that her getting recruited certainly explained why it had taken them so long before releasing her.)

…She didn't look like she'd make much of a spy, with her distinctive eyes and the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve, but she'd endured thirteen weeks of torture and not broken. Tsunade-sama and Ibiki must have found things that'd be useful. Maybe they'd trained her for Interrogation more than Intelligence.

"I've made Hinata-san one of our special jounins," the Hokage continued.

Special jounin. She couldn't be as unbroken as Shikaku had believed she'd be, then. From the way the other three tensed up in their various ways, they knew that as well as he did. Neji's expression had clammed up, and for approximately half a second Shikaku was reminded of Uchiha Itachi's dispassionate composure. Empty like a mask that didn't slip.

Shikaku observed the girl's demeanor – a bit uncomfortable but unfaltering.

He'd never have pegged the little Hyuuga girl as being strong enough to break and pick up the pieces afterwards – not that he'd have pegged her as being strong enough to escape from an interrogation chamber of Orochimaru's, either. Not that he'd ever thought about it.

"So, anything special happen during that trip, or were there just the expected skirmishes?"

The Sand jounin looked back to the Hokage, folding her hands and crossing her legs at the ankles. "There was a delay when I found two of my people to be traitors, but they were disposed of; there may have been a leak concerning the whereabouts of the squad led by Namiashi Raidou, but Namiashi-san provided no details whatsoever concerning his mission, so the risk of any vital information having been passed on to our enemies is minimal."

Tsunade-sama had rested her elbows on her desk and was listening to the Sand envoy, her fingertips joined. Shikaku glanced at the kunoichi standing next to the Hokage. One advantage a Hyuuga in Intelligence and Interrogation presented, they had no pupils. As long as they didn't turn their head, you couldn't guess where they were looking.

"Three days were spent helping Leaf-nin Sai, who was being pursued by a total of six shinobis, two of which were Sound chuunins, under the supervision of a Cloud jounin. He was injured, but one of my medic-nins had healed him by the time we had to leave him." Temari frowned.

"The pursuers seemed to suspect that he was to meet with Hatake Kakashi, which I am inclined to believe was a result of one of the Sound-nin's jutsus. It made her mildly telepathic, and she killed the last Cloud-nin when he was about to be taken prisoner for fear that he'd spill the beans."

She looked perfectly controlled. Shikamaru's grave countenance told Shikaku that the shifting in speech patterns was a regular occurrence. He'd probably helped her in her reasoning anyway.

"I'd say the jutsu was a bloodline limit, Snow country as for the origin – I've read something similar in classified reports – which I for one find worrying. If Orochimaru is uniting the banned clans and giving them shelter, it gives him more legitimacy, a nobler facade, and followers both more numerous and more devoted than if he kept on accepting missing-nins, especially with the trend of intolerance against bloodline limits a lot of the smaller countries have been going through. We could always count on the clans wiping one another out, but I don't think Orochimaru will give them the opportunity."

Temari of the Sand raised an eyebrow. She looked distinctly less like a prim and proper ambassador, or the warrior that she was rumored to be, and more like – well, someone who knew what she was talking about. Out of the corner of his eye, Shikaku noticed that his son's lips were turned upward.

She wasn't addressing the Hokage quite like an equal in power, but like an equal in politics – yes, definitely.

"There has been a handful of incidents within Wind Country itself over the last five years, which may or may not be linked either to Orochimaru's long-time planning or to my brother being appointed as the Kazekage, but the civilian society has been known to react in ways less than savory to shinobi, and Suna fears that this attitude may impinge on the banned clans' opinions."

Tsunade arched an eyebrow. "What does Suna propose?"

Temari gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Nothing official, but my brother's been thinking of opening the village to banned clans. Our council wouldn't be much pleased, but if the situation demands it they'd probably be open to the idea." She didn't look very pleased by the possibility either. "Downside being that Suna's never been big on clans, so we might send the wrong message – that we're going to suck their substance out, make 'em as tools, pillage their promising nins and powerful jutsus, and march 'em off to war to get slaughtered if they twitch an eyebrow."

She paused in her bored description. "I'm sorry, did I say wrong? I meant right, of course."

Shikamaru had a sudden coughing fit.

"Hm. And what do you expect from Konoha?"

"Well… Not that it'd go much better, with the Uchiha and recent Hyuuga situation, but Konoha offering to take on some banned clans would be much more believable," Temari admitted with disarming straightforwardness. "And Leaf is much more tolerant than most other Hidden villages anyway, except the really small ones that want to gain power or Mist. So far the small villages have been too afraid of being eaten from the inside out by any banned clan they could accept, but that might change, what with the war. As for Mist…" Temari shrugged. "The clans that haven't tried going there yet probably won't."

"Blood-crazed maniacs," Tsunade agreed.

Temari flashed a grin that looked like a streak of blood on an Inuzuka's fang.

"However Konoha will not be taking on immigrants any time soon. As you've stated, we have our own clan problems, and the culture of the northern clans make it impossible for them to join the Leaf without efforts and time that we have to focus elsewhere for now."

The Sand envoy whipped another of her feral grins. "I suppose you know more about them than I do. But there are other countries that I think Konoha must know better than us, maybe the integration of _their_ clans would be easier."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed under the reminder that she was not exactly a model patriot, her years on the roads conveniently shoved aside but never forgotten, and – was that a covert reference to Team Seven? If it was the case, Shikaku wondered what Temari thought she'd achieve by bringing up such a touchy subject.

"Was there anything else?" The Hokage's tone sounded a bit clipped, but with the Sand envoy's very… unique brand of diplomacy, Shikaku supposed it wouldn't be a problem.

Temari cocked her head to the side. "We met your Team Seven two days ago," she said.

There was a hitched gasp from Hinata. The calligraphy brush Tsunade had been playing with clattered on the desk, rolled, and fell on the floor. Shikaku's jaw had dropped, and he found himself staring at the Sand girl.

"You did? Shikamaru?"

Shikamaru looked up, marginally unshrinking, with an air that meant he'd hoped to get away with it but knew he couldn't possibly get that lucky.

"Erm, yes, yes we did."

On the farthest chair, Neji was smiling, watching Hinata with an expression both content and longing – like the desk between them and the other people in the room were stopping him from walking to her, and make her sit down and hold her hands while she worked through her reaction, like bringing her this piece of news was a gift for him as well as for her. For once, he looked reasonably sane.

The girl had an expression of shock on her face, skin paler than ever, her mouth silently working, her eyes wide and – slowly misting over. Shikaku looked away when he thought it looked like she was about to cry, an overflow of emotions spilling over. _She_ didn't look tremendously sane, but Shikaku could sympathize; nobody did when they learnt someone they loved was alive. (He sneaked another glance. The brightness on her face was almost painful, and she looked back at Neji with an expression that Shikaku couldn't interpret.)

"How were they?"

There was concern in the Hokage's voice. Her apprentice was on that team.

There was also Uzumaki Naruto, and it was sort of an open secret that Uzumaki Naruto – the Kyuubi vessel/boy – was the reason why Tsunade-sama was the Godaime at all. There were people who didn't believe the rumors, but they didn't have a son that age. Shikamaru didn't exaggerate as a rule, except if it involved women or how troublesome things were, and since his chuunin exam, he'd said he'd been somewhat impressed by Naruto – never mind the ninja, he was a good person.

Shikaku had his reservations about the boy – and the rumors about his 'losing control' hadn't helped any, no more than his disappearance with his former teammate – but he was prepared to give him a chance, so long as Haruno Sakura was on that team.

According to Inoichi, and backed up by Chouza, Haruno Sakura as one of the most respected young shinobis of her generation was something no-one would have bet on ten years before.

Shikaku, who didn't have Ino for a daughter or an outside-looking-in perspective on kids with Chouji, wouldn't have known, but then again, ten years before, no-one would have thought Uchiha Sasuke would grow without a family into a traitor either.

Still, he remembered the description the kids had given after they'd become genins, when they came over to lounge for a while – meaning that Ino fled her mother's house and dragged Chouji over, pretending all the way that Chouji had been the one to insist; then Shikamaru would groan and roll his eyes and grumble that if they wanted something to drink, they might damn well go to the kitchen themselves. The board games would be set up, and Shikaku knew, when he walked past the room, that they were mostly an excuse to give Ino room to bitch and Shikamaru and Chouji something to do with themselves while she did.

When Yoshino got Chouji and Ino to stay dine – a rare event, but that became more common as Chouji grew more confident and Ino more rebellious – it'd always been a right mess. Yoshino spent her dinner making remarks at her son on why he couldn't be more like his friends, like Chouji who was always so polite and Ino who was always so lively, and Shikamaru scowled lower and lower into his plate until it seemed as if he was inhaling his food, and Shikaku idly wondered if Shikamaru realized that it was his mother's version of doting on someone, or if he knew how much the two others thought he was a mama's boy.

Anyway, the point was that Shikaku remembered those dinners, especially after the three had been made a team. He remembered well enough their comments on their classmates who'd become genins.

Ino had been most vocal on her commentary on Sakura – about as much as she'd been concerning Sasuke, and Shikaku knew for a fact that even Yoshino had been fed up with the subject, though that might have been because it reminded her of painful overblown crushes when she was that age _not that he would ever ask her_.

Ino's opinion on Sakura… hadn't been good. And Chouji's vague attempts to nuance things, and Shikamaru's snide remarks at Ino herself, had sounded only half-hearted.

Haruno Sakura, the consensus had been, wasn't a very good ninja, and not a very reliable person.

(She was good at seals and she understood things fast, Shikamaru had said later, but in shinobi action – strength or speed or determination – she'd be practically as useless as Naruto. And she had temper flare-ups and she mumbled to herself like there was someone else. And she was hung up on Sasuke.)

Hindsight.

"Fine," Shikamaru settled on. "We walked through their genjutsu without being aware of it. I don't think they'd have bothered to show up if Naruto hadn't recognized Neji."

The Hokage looked like she was drinking Shikamaru's words. It was after all – so far as Shikaku knew – the first time in more than a year that anyone from Konoha had caught a glimpse of Sakura and Naruto, and more than four years in the Uchiha's case.

"They were resting because Sasuke was injured." Shikamaru paused. He didn't need to add that the injury must have been pretty bad, if Sakura hadn't managed to heal it in one go and had had to lay a genjutsu on top of their hiding place. "I – don't think it was the only reason. Sasuke had a heavy bandage around his neck and his shoulder." He shot a look at Neji, who blankly held it. "We didn't pry, but there was probably something up with Sasuke's curse seal."

Tsunade waved it aside, though her jaw line was grave. "Sakura knows how to deal with seals. She's snooped on a lot of documents she wasn't supposed to when she was my student. Sakura and Naruto were all right, though?"

Shikamaru wrinkled his nose. "Yeah – I mean, yes." He shifted.

Tsunade's eyes narrowed.

"They were." The Hokage deadpanned.

Shikaku repressed a wince on his son's behalf.

"They said that Konoha should expect 'something' from Sky Country, if that counts," Shikamaru said tartly.

The Hokage's eyebrows rose. "Something."

"They were unable to precise whether it would be war or an alliance proposal," Shikamaru imperturbably went on.

From Shikamaru's tone, the words 'or a postcard with glitter flamingoes' were implied. Temari was staring at a point past the Hokage's head, and looked far too staid.

"Oh, so that type of something."

"Or another kind entirely," Shikamaru agreed.

"Yes, that was what I meant."

A dour, dry look was exchanged between them. Shikaku shook himself to remember that it was his son. Sharing a moment with Godaime. On how unbelievably troublesome Team Seven was. Shikaku was torn for an instant trying to decide who this was more like.

Hinata's hand rose to hide her lips, suddenly reminding Shikaku of her presence, and Shikaku felt her eyes had flickered, focusing on her cousin for a moment; Neji's lips curved in answer. It could certainly be useful for a member of Intelligence and Interrogation to blend with the wallpaper, but wasn't that a bit of a hindrance to a head of clan? Then her earlier interaction with Neji when she'd entered the office came back to his mind, and how it had felt like they were the only two people alive, and he concluded that it must depend on the role she played.

"Anything else I should know?" There were mock morose undertones in the Hokage's voice.

Shikaku thought the only regret she had was that Jiraiya wasn't in Konoha to rejoice over their apprentices' craziness tonight. At any rate, she certainly didn't seem worried by the prospect of a war – which, again, was either faith in Naruto and Sakura or a gambler's fatalism.

Shikamaru frowned. "They said that something big happened in Sound a little over three weeks ago – apparently analysis of Sasuke's seal could tell them that much. Naruto says Orochimaru got upset over something and Sasuke didn't rule that out, but Sakura thought as a cautionary measure, they should assume it was glee. She didn't sound like she actually believed it," he admitted.

What–

"They wanted to know what it was about, but we didn't know anything about it, so…" Shikamaru shrugged, leaving the question open.

Slowly, Shikaku turned his gaze to Hinata. She was looking at the Hokage. Tsunade tapped her fingers on her desk.

"Signal everyone that Yakushi Kabuto is dead," she briskly said. "Well done, Hinata-san."

The Hokage fumbled through her papers, found the scroll she was looking for, and signed it with barely a glance before handing it to Hinata.

Hinata smiled. "I'll be going to headquarters."

"Hm? Oh, yes. Take Neji with you," Tsunade didn't look up from her scrolls.

It must be a defensive measure against Neji's sudden stiffening and likely subsequent demand of explanations. She mustn't be willing to deal with Hyuuga dysfunction right now, not over Kabuto and what had happened to Hinata during those weeks – that or she believed Hinata best suited to placate her cousin – and if Shikamaru and Temari's bewildered airs were any indication, Neji wouldn't be the only one asking questions.

Shikaku admitted to himself as to being curious why the Hokage had chosen to reveal that Hinata had been the one to kill Kabuto, but then again – why ever not?

"Hokage-sama—" Neji started.

Tsunade shooed him away, gesturing to the door, which Hinata was now holding open. "Do go on. You should be with your clan, at such a time."

Hinata tilted her head to the side when Neji stood up, waiting for him. They left the office without another word; Hinata was the one to slide the door shut behind them, after Neji brushed past her, purposely staring right in front of him. Shikaku caught a hint of a smile on her face as she turned to close the door.

The four people remaining in the office were silent for a moment, then Tsunade nodded.

"Well, that's that. So, Team Seven?"

She looked at Shikamaru like she wanted to know if Naruto had grown his hair longer or if Sakura had put on a bit of weight, or if Sasuke was as hot as twelve-years-old girls had been allowed to predict he'd be as a teen. If that was the pieces of gossip she wanted to hear, she was wasting her time with Shikamaru, who blankly held her gaze.

Finally she waved it aside impatiently.

"Oh, you may go. Your new assignments will be ready tomorrow, until then you can go home and relax. Accommodations must have been prepared for your nins, Temari-san; you're welcome to stay at your usual quarters, they're all yours, or where you want, of course. We won't be sending for you before mid-morning anyway."

The Sand girl held the Hokage's insinuation with aplomb. Shikamaru didn't fare half so well and levelly watched the surface of the Hokage's desk. Shikaku pretended not to have heard anything, and prepared to act the part of the oblivious father when his son didn't come home tonight.

The Sand envoy made to stand up, with a nod that wasn't really respectful enough, and so did Shikaku, sans nod, but Shikamaru only shuffled his feet.

"…Hinata?"

Temari paused, looking almost interested in the answer herself, now the question had been asked.

"You people never know when to give up, do you?" Tsunade-sama glanced at Shikamaru, leaving Shikaku to speculate on who the 'you people' designated. "…She was a prisoner of the Sound for three months, then she escaped." Now she was a special jounin of Intelligence and Interrogation, and the rest was her business, was strongly implied.

Shikamaru didn't push. Vague concern was sketched on his face; if he was shocked by the news, he hid it well. It was more probable that he'd guessed as much.

Chouza, Inoichi, and the kids were waiting for them in the hall, along with the Sand-nins, who helped each other up when they saw Temari. The Sand jounin crossed the hall to talk with the clerk who seemed in charge of the group. Another of the ex-civilian students at the academy; he was wearing a shuriken holster on his thigh, and his arms were wrapped in protective bandages.

He must have failed the exam of the week before, be preparing for the one of the week after. His hands, Shikaku noticed when he waved at the Sand-nins after Temari had spoken to them and walked back to Team Ten, were shiny with the old burn marks overpowered fire jutsus often left.

"So you saw Hinata? She was in a hurry – she told us she could meet us at that restaurant of Chouji's tonight if we wanted, but she couldn't stay now – and can you believe she's the head of the Hyuuga clan?"

"She did have to hurry," Shikamaru observed. "Drop something at Intelligence headquarters."

Ino stopped dead in her tracks and narrowed her eyes, like she believed Shikamaru was about to sigh and to tell her she was too gullible. Inoichi and Chouza instinctively looked at Shikaku, who nodded. Inoichi's Adam apple went up then down.

"That explains why Neji didn't look happy, then," Chouji remarked.

"You can see how he looks? I see dispassionate-fighting – that's when the hair flies all around – and dispassionate-blank – that's when Lee and Gai-sensei are making fools of themselves or Hinata is around – and just plain dispassionate."

Chouza sent Inoichi a significant, and-this-is-your-daughter look. Inoichi helplessly shrugged.

"I concur," Temari said. She'd fallen into step next to Shikamaru; her hands were crossed behind her head in a very unfeminine mannerism. Her back was arched against her giant fan. Shikamaru ignored her.

"He was walking half a step behind her," Chouji pointed.

Silence.

"When Hyuuga Neji is unhappy with his head of clan, he walks half a step behind her?" Shikaku wanted to make clear. "Are you sure it's not respect?"

Ino snorted.

"When Neji wants to show respect to Hinata, he escorts her in town to meet her team or Sakura and I, so we can do girly stuff and she and her team can spend buddy time – things like talk, and go to movies and have ice creams – and then he waits for her a hundred feet from the Hyuuga district, leaning against a wall, and when they get home they get utterly scolded by Hinata's father for 'wasting time on trifles.' And when he really wants to make his point, he tells her father that 'Hinata-sama willed it so', and they both get the cold shoulder for two weeks."

("Colder shoulder," Shikamaru corrected.)

She stopped walking again. "Though that may change now – I mean, that only worked when Hiashi was alive, now Hinata's the head he's going to have to find something else."

Neither Shikamaru nor Chouji looked any baffled by Ino's tale.

Temari shook her head. "Neji."

She sounded like she was really saying, 'the Hyuuga', but there were boundaries a diplomat couldn't cross, which a friend could blithely trample. She swept a too-casual glance over the group, stretching her arms over her head. Her eyes had crinkled like that of a purring cat.

Shikamaru nonchalantly made a step on the side, outwardly avoiding a small kid running after a ball, putting a few feet more between himself and Temari.

Shikaku slung closer to his teammates.

"And whatever's his deal with his cousin's protection, it's bound to get worse now that she's a special jounin," Temari added.

Inoichi almost tripped over nothing, blinking a few owlish instants before whipping his head to Shikaku. Having felt that way himself in the Hokage's office, he grimaced in sympathy.

"Hinata's a special jounin?... Harsh," phlegmatic Chouji judged.

"…Special jounin. Wow. Just… Wow." Ino sounded suitably impressed, and a bit disturbed by the implications. "Do we know why?"

The Sand kunoichi, Shikaku saw, was smirking. Her shadow was resting on top of Shikamaru's, and he wondered if the provocation was on purpose, or if she was unaware of what she was doing.

From what he'd seen, she was arrogant, not stupid; she couldn't have missed that. The way she deliberately set her pace so that the shadows were at least brushing indicated that she knew. Shikamaru wasn't making much effort to avoid it, but neither did he change his path to accommodate her.

They were walking a few feet away, paying no attention to the other and seemingly unconscious of the displays of their shadows.

Uncomfortable, Shikaku looked up before one of his teammates followed his gaze. Yes, definitely do his best to play the oblivious father. Either Shikamaru was doing this on purpose as a way to graphically announce 'Dad, this is my girlfriend', either he wasn't thinking about that right now or assumed his father wouldn't notice – wouldn't know what it should mean, perhaps. The latter would be more like Shikamaru, Shikaku gruffly thought.

"She's escaped from Sound a little over three weeks ago," Shikaku abruptly said.

Everyone stared at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he was somewhat distressed that the shadows of the aggressive Sand kunoichi with the hard glinting eyes and his sixteen-year-old genius of a son couldn't be told apart (he could, if he cared to; he didn't), and there was no jutsu involved. …Thank God, as he realized belatedly, and then wanted to scrub his brains out to erase the image.

He jerked his chin toward Inoichi. "Inoichi and I ran across her when she was reaching the village."

"How special's special?" Ino's perturbed look didn't waver.

"Hinata's in Intelligence and Interrogation now," Shikamaru answered as if it was entirely unrelated to the mention that she'd been a prisoner of Orochimaru's. "Oh yeah, before I forget – Kabuto's dead, too."

"Ibiki's special alright," Ino muttered.

Then the news of Kabuto's death registered.

Shikaku stopped paying attention when the slanted sunrays of late afternoon started to make the two shadows look as though jutsus might indeed be involved, and joined Inoichi on the side – facing away from the disturbing scene. Behind him, his son's voice occasionally drifted, as bored as ever, and the Sand girl wasn't even talking to him, but primarily with Ino.

"Can you believe she's a special jounin?" he muttered to Inoichi, imitating Ino's earlier remark.

"Can you believe she's alive?" Inoichi answered in the same tone.

Chouza leaned. "We'll see them at dinner anyway," he commented.

It sounded like a sensible conclusion; Shikaku thought that knowing they'd have to endure Hyuuga Neji's unnerving presence rather ruined the effect.


End file.
